


The Gambit

by LadyFangs



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Modern Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFangs/pseuds/LadyFangs
Summary: Ragnar and Lagertha jump into modern times. They're both actors, and the drama is often hotter off screen than on it.Story 1, Veins: She's bent over, hands on the wall of a bathroom stall. “I don’t even know your name,” he gasps in her ear.  (A one night stand in the club bathroom turns into something more).Story 2, Sensual Seduction:  It was either divine inspiration or stupidity.  But the man is sexy in a grown-ass-man kind of way. He's looking at her as if she’s water and he’s dying of thirst.  (Ragnar plays too damn much and Lagertha can't really tell if he's serious or not. So she goes with not).Story 3, Fire: Four years of wanting and not having. Of trying and failing. Until his nights were spent drunk and his days were too. Because being in love with a married woman is the worst mind fuck of his life. (Ragnar met his soul mate...and she's married to someone else).Story 4, Awake, My Soul: He knows how many sons he'll have, and he knows who will bear them. Because they've done this before. (Their love is timeless. And he's managed to find her again).





	1. Veins

**Veins**

“Fuck.”

He’s got a badass blonde bent over, her hands on the wall of a bathroom stall and he’s balls-deep. The end is coming soon.

The sounds of sex bounces off the metal and the concrete, echoing around and fueling an already overheated experience. It quickly becomes too much and he shoots…and totally scores as she lets out a groan and her legs shake and she starts to squeeze and grind against him as she comes. He loses his shit and leans against her back, pressing her into the wall while he tries to catch his breath.

“I don’t even know your name,” he gasps in her ear.

.

.

He wakes up in the morning with a splitting headache. Last night is really just a blur, a loose association of shapes and colors and images.

“Ugh.” Even getting up is difficult, but he manages, stumbling to the bathroom to take a piss. It’s the first time he gets a good look at himself in the mirror. His hair is sticking up all over, his beard looks matted and there’s a red scratch on the side of his neck…and what looks like a bite mark on the other side.

A flush and he moves to the mirror to get a closer look. Yeah. It’s a hickey. He traces it with his fingers and as soon as he does, the groan comes out his mouth involuntarily as a very specific memory hits him—the girl, no—the woman in the bathroom.

Oh damn. How had he forgotten that? It was quite possibly the best screw of his life.

Ragnar turns on the faucet and reaches for some soap, washing his hands, and splashing water on his face. His eyes are still blood-shot. And all he can smell is liquor.

He’s got an audition in an hour.

.

.

She’d never used the ones in her purse, until last night. Even just thinking about it makes her flush. That was definitely a first. And what a first…in the bathroom at a nightclub. Oh boy.

It’s not like she set out to do it. Actually, she’d been about to leave when she spotted him. They saw each other at the same time really, and something had just…snapped? Clicked?

Because he was different. A contrast to the perfectly cut and movie-star handsome crowd in the club. He looked… rougher. Scarred. Maybe it was the beard. Maybe it was his disheveled hair. Or maybe it was in the smirk on his face and the predatory look in his eyes. He had a certain type of grown-ass-man swag and a different sort of sexy—it rolled off him like he didn’t give two shits about the rest of the people here. He’d caught her eye and his lips had curled in a smile as he made his way in her direction and when he got close and she could smell him…it was pretty much over. She would have fucked him on the dance floor but at least one of them had sense enough to start moving to the bathrooms…where he promptly bent her over and took his pants down.

Yeah. It’s a good thing she’s been carrying condoms in her purse.

.

.

“Okay, so you’re pretty much a shoo-in for this role, we’re just doing the chemistry test today with a few of the potential co-ledes.”

Ecbert, the director peers over his glasses to look at her. “Each one should only take a few minutes. I’m of the opinion if it doesn’t happen in the first few minutes, it’s not going to happen.”

Lagertha nods and crosses her legs in the chair. She hates chemistry tests, but at least this time, she’s the one the guys have to impress and not the other way around. Even still, she’s chosen her clothes carefully, long, wide leg pants and a long-sleeved high neck Victorian top. Honestly—the outfit is meant to hide the bruises on her neck and the hand marks on her thighs.

Ecbert is true to his word, and these do go quick. One guy makes a few dirty jokes about how he wants her naked, another tries to stick his tongue down her throat and the third guy is just…no. She actually felt bad for him.

“Alright, well…hopefully this last one will work.”

“What’s his name?” She asks reading through the script in front of her. They’ve been trying different scenes as they go along.

“Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“Okay. Well, I’m ready when you are.”

A beep, and the doors open. She stands up quickly, her heart racing, feeling like it’s going to jump out of her chest at any moment. It’s nearly equally matched by the strong pulsing sensation that’s started between her legs.

Holy shit. Mother of God…let the heavens swallow her whole right now…

The guy from last night has just walked in and he’s starting at her with a sort of intensity that’s making her feel…

He walks up quick and pulls her close to him, bending his head to kiss her, long and deep. yeah…that’s about it for Ecbert’s chemistry test. He breaks it and nuzzles against her neck, his beard tickling her skin.

 “I didn’t get your name last night,” he whispers.

No. No he did not. He got something else, and as soon as Ecbert says they’re done (because obviously no script was read) they’re out the door and down the hall and he’s got an arm around her waist and is pulling them into the nearest available room where he closes the door, locks it, backs her up against it and pushes her pants down and gets to his knees, his face between her legs.

What he’s doing down there is quickly overriding sense and reason. They apparently lost both sometime last night.

“Lagertha,” she breathes.

“Ragnar.” It’s muffled against her skin.

.

.

He doesn’t see her again until the start of filming in Canada. Until he’s walking into a large conference room on set for the first day of work. There are a lot of people here, other cast members and he walks up for introductions and small talk. It’s in the middle of one of these that he catches the shock of blonde hair from the door.

Her. Lagertha. The name rolls around on his tongue and it’s a bad move really because now he’s damn- near salivating at the image that hasn’t left his mind for nearly two months: of her wide eyed look as he gave her head in some non-descript, empty office. Ragnar spots Lagertha before she sees him and he comes up behind her back. She jumps and turns around quickly.

“You scared me!” He gives her a soft smile.

“I didn’t mean to. What are you doing after this?” It’s an invitation. He watches as she bites her bottom lip and it makes him think about replacing her teeth with his. But there are other people here and it’s not the time nor the place.

“Can we…talk after?”

“Yes. Of course. Are you at the hotel?” She nods. “Okay. Give me a call when you’re ready.” They swap phone numbers.

.

.

It’s late by the time he gets to her room. She opens the door and he walks in, closing it fast and wrapping her up in his arms, his lips going to her neck as he slides one hand down her body. But she cools it with two hands against his chest, pressing him back.

“No.”

Shit. But he obeys it as she moves off to sit on a side chair, bringing her feet under her. He takes the one by the desk.

“The night at the club,” she starts, “it was…fun. And the audition…that was great too, but…I don’t KNOW you.”

The only thing that is known are first names. No birthdays, favorite colors, favorite foods, likes/dislikes…families? What of that?

“Do you want to know me?”

“I do.”

“I’m glad. Because I want to know you.”

At that, he gets her smile, softer now.

“My birthday is tomorrow.” He grins and slides off the chair to go up to her. “What would you like for your birthday?”

This isn’t what he expected. It had been meant as another invitation, but she’d ignored it, and now, as they sit in her room eating pizza and drinking beer and watching Inglorious Bastards, he’s glad she did. Because for some reason, just sitting in a bed with an arm wrapped around Lagertha is equally as good as what he originally had in mind.

And he likes her taste in movies. “My birthday is on Halloween,” he tells her.

“That’s my favorite holiday!” She grins.

It’s only three months away.

.

.

Certain things are hard to shake. Because they started off fast it’s a challenge to slow down, and each time they’re together they’re fighting the urge to take each other’s clothes off. Filming has just started and the first shot scheduled is a sex scene. A fucking sex scene.

Having a crowd of people watching them makes it somewhat easier but not by much because they’re wrapped in furs and she’s topless and it’s at this moment that they look at each other and know exactly what the other is thinking.

 Lagertha breaks down first in laughter. Ragnar follows, because they’re cut from the same mold apparently and have equally deviant thoughts. “If I do it good enough, I doubt they’d know,” he whispers.

“I’m not that good an actress,” she tells him with a smile.

.

.

The interviews come with the territory. And it is here she makes a discovery. Ragnar Lothbrok is…shy. He shifts in his chair and mumbles into his mic—falling back on ‘yes/no’ answers to the questions. He’s floundering…badly, and it’s painful to watch as the poor interviewer tries and fails to engage him. Finally, she jumps in for the save when the reporter asks about the relationship between their two characters.

 “She loves him and she hates him at the same time. And I think it speaks to the nature of people—we can’t all be happy all the time, and sometimes, emotions conflict.”

He gives her a look of relief, and smiles a tight smile.

.

.

Three months in. Halloween. There’s a cast party tonight, and she’s ready to go. She takes another look at herself and smiles. It’s an adults-only party. And Siggy has been clear about the theme: crime and punishment. There’s a knock at her door and she opens it. Ragnar’s there dressed in black suit. But it’s fitted, and carefully tailored and it fits across his shoulders and chest and legs gorgeously. Only Ragnar Lothbrok can make a suit look sinful.

“You look great.” He says it as he places a kiss on her cheek while admiring the fitted trench coat, the fishnet tights and the mile high stiletto shoes she’s wearing.  It’s sexy in an understated way he thinks.

The party is already going hard when they walk through the door and Siggy comes up to them. “Hey! You made it!” She pulls them both in for a hug and turns to Lagertha. “The coats and bags are in my room. It’s that way.”

“Thanks Siggy. Ragnar, I’ll be back in a minute. Can you get me something to drink?”

“Yeah.”

Lagertha follows Siggy down the hall and once in the room, removes her jacket.

“Oohh girl! I feel like the Virgin Mary next to you.” Siggy’s got on a short, skintight dress with side cut outs and a spiked collar around her neck.

“Is it too much?” For the first time since making her costume choice, Lagertha is worried.

“Depends on your end game. And that collar is naughty.” Siggy’s making eyes at her.

Maybe it is too much. “I think I will keep the trench coat on.”  Lagertha opens her purse, pulling out the lasso whip she bought. She attaches it on her hip, and Siggy laughs. “You’re such a Dom.”

They walk out the room and back to the party and Ragnar hands her a beer. They pose for photos with their friends. Later, they go back to the hotel and to his room.

When the door closes, he takes off the jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He really hates suits. Lagertha watches as he gets comfortable and she takes her time, walking slowly up to him. Ragnar’s seated, taking off his shoes. But he stops at the sound of rustling fabric, and the sight of those black shiny leather stilletos in front of his feet. His eyes travel up, noting the fishnets, and they go higher still…

He leans back groaning, running his hand down his face as Lagertha looks down at him, grinning. The trench coat is gone, and she’s wearing a black sheer lace bra and matching panties. Those fishnet tights are held up by a garter belt. And she’s got the whip in hand. But what has him totally thrown is what’s around her neck…a gold choker with an O-ring dropping from the center.

“Happy birthday,” she says before climbing onto his lap.

Every once in a while she likes to play the sub.

.

.

The show has been renewed for a second season and they are only five episodes into the first. So it’s time to find permanent spaces. And he has found one. A little cottage on the lake which is only a few miles from set.  Lagertha looks uncertain.

“Ragnar…where is the bathroom?” He laughs. “Around you.”

She’s not some weeping flower. And she’s been camping a few times. But the idea of an all-day every day camping trip is…unappealing. Still, Ragnar loves it, and she can see why. The lake sparkles under the sun, and it’s quiet out here. There’s no human pollution.

“What did you find?”

“I have a place closer to the city,” she says. “So when you get tired of bar crawling and you’re too drunk to drive back here, there’s my place.”

He hugs her.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Not being mad at me about this.”

She smiles against his chest. “You need your space.”

.

.

It’s by far the worst scene they’ve shot so far. But she doesn’t understand why she can’t stop crying. It’s not like its real.

The door to her dressing room squeals a bit and she quickly wipes her eyes as Ragnar walks in. It’s too late. He can tell she’s been crying and he comes to her, kneeling down to rest his chin on her knee.

“Sorry. I don’t know what the problem is.”

He looks up at her. “I do. I feel the same way.”

Even though it’s fake, even though it’s not real, it still hurts. Ecbert wrote in the ultimate betrayal. And it makes Ragnar and Lagertha both feel some type of way.

It’s the first time he sees her cry. And it feels like they’re being pulled from his own rib. He never wants to be the cause of those tears.

.

.

Flying under the radar of prying friends isn’t easy. And it’s a lot more complicated when most of everyday is spent in the presence of the other. But they think they’ve been discreet enough.

Until, in front of 300 people at the biggest promotional event of the year, their friends put them on blast.

It starts with a question:

“Ragnar, Lagertha, this question comes from twitter. @DABOMB44 says you two are amazing to watch. Did you have instant fight chemistry when you first met?”

There are snickers all around, and before either she or Ragnar can answer, Athelstan’s voice comes from down the table.

“I don’t know about fight chemistry but they definitely have fuck chemistry.”

The hall loses it. Ragnar looks up at the ceiling and Lagertha puts her head down on the table. Athelstan, Ecbert and Siggy are cracking up.

Within hours it’s all over the pages of the gossip columns and celebrity sites.

“What do we do?” They’re in the back of the plane flying back to the set. Everyone else is asleep except for them. Ragnar shrugs but leans into the aisle to take a look in front of them. Yes, everyone is asleep.

He whispers in Lagertha’s ear and her eyes get wide at what he’s saying. When she looks at his face, he’s grinning and it’s that look that lets her know he’s dead serious.

 Athelstan’s a light sleeper. He’s just been laying back with his eyes closed when he hears the first sound. It’s quiet—like a hitched breath. He ignores it at first. But then it comes again. Slightly louder, and there’s a shushing sound that follows it…

The next thing he hears is completely unmistakable, and he slumps down a bit in his seat to turn and look… Siggy is knocked out next to him, but he wakes her gently, covering her mouth with his hand and gesturing to the black of the plane. She peeps out too.

“You called it,” she whispers and they laugh quietly.

“Those dirty motherfuckers,” Athelstan says, but he admires their shamelessness.

They turn around and Siggy rests her head on Athelstan’s shoulder as he puts on headphones to drown out the sounds of Ragnar and Lagertha’s induction into the mile-high club.

.

.

The first time she sees Ragnar angry, it scares her. Sure, she’s seen him _acting_ angry. But this is real. Ragnar’s anger is not explosive. It’s cold and heartless. She had knocked on the door but he didn’t answer, and she walked in his dressing room to hear him on the phone with someone…his voice was low, and it was deep, like a rumble…but the words that came out of his mouth, the quiet threat…she knew with certainly every word he said he meant.  He hung up abruptly when he saw her at the door.

“I knocked,” she tries to explain as he came over to her and backed her up against the wall. One hand comes to rest by the side of her head. Ragnar lowers his head to kiss her. But it’s a different sort of kiss—harder—a prelude for what comes next.

.

.

No one really knows when it started. Sometime midway through the first season perhaps. But it has continued, and it’s funny to watch. Ragnar has become the unofficial babysitter. The infants are his favorite. And there are plenty of them around. The show is a period drama, and someone is always having a baby. Some cast members have their kids, and the crew have theirs. The extras do too.

She finds him one day still in costume, with two babies in his arms.

Siggy finds him on another day, with a group of toddlers using him as a giant pillow and she goes to get Lagertha to show her. Ragnar and the kids are asleep on the ground in a pile.

“I know. It’s ridiculous,” she says. Siggy just smirks. “It’s kinda hot though. How many men will fully fess up to loving kids?”

It’s not just the human kind. Lagertha has also noticed Ragnar has a thing for baby animals. And the baby goats that wander the set are a favorite. Some of their friends have taken to making memes of Ragnar and the kids. So one day, she asks about it.

“They haven’t learned to lie yet.”

“What about the goat thing?”

“I grew up on a dairy farm. I’ve been delivering baby goats and cows since I was five.”

It gets him a kiss and a smile.

.

.

This isn’t her kind of party. They had come because they were invited and felt it would be insulting not to show. But the moment they walked in, she regretted it. Lagertha is certain the white power on the table isn’t sugar or salt and the smell of marijuana is strong.

 They agree to stay for 10 minutes, and in the haze, they get separated. She comes upon Ragnar just in time to see him do a line. And she’s pissed. He finds her outside, waiting for an uber.

“Hey, I lost you.” Ragnar comes up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist and inhaling the scent of her hair. “You smell so good.”

“I’m surprised you can smell at all.”

He knows instantly that somehow, he’s fucked up. Lagertha turns on him.

“What the hell? Coke? Seriously, Ragnar?”

So she saw that.  Shit.

“Can we talk about this elsewhere?” She gives him a long look, and nods. The car ride back to her apartment is quiet. But the silence breaks as soon as she closes the door.

“Explain.”

“It was just a line.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t do drugs. And I don’t do people who do drugs.”

“So I guess that means you don’t do me now.”

“I guess so.”

“It was one fucking line! You act like I snorted the pile.”

“Are you high right now?”

“I was until you blew it.” He’s trying to be funny. She’s not breaking, and so he relents and goes to embrace her again. She tenses up, but he doesn’t let her go.

“I’m sorry I scared you. It’s not a habit. But I won’t do it again, I promise. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Well, now you do.” He nods.

Later, when they’re in bed he asks another question.

“Can I still smoke?”

It gets him sent to the couch.

.

.

“Hey…shouldn’t you be at your mid-day sex break?” Athelstan gets a piece of lettuce thrown in his face.

“It was just a joke, Lagertha! Damn.”

“Not funny.”

She and Ragnar haven’t spoken since the party. She’s still beyond pissed about the whole thing. And even if he’s promised not to do it again, she doesn’t trust it. It had been just a little too easy for him. He’d been just a little too casual with it. Maybe not a habit, but still…

She gets up from the table and goes to find Ragnar.

“Tell me the truth, and do not even attempt to lie to me.” He turns as Lagertha storms into his dressing room.

“What are you talking about?”

“The party. I want to know. Now.”

He knows exactly what she’s talking about. So he sits her down. And he tells her the truth. And when he gets done telling her, he waits to see how she responds.

Tears.

The first one slips down her left cheek. He manages to catch the second one. But they keep coming. And they break him.

“I never said I was perfect,” he tells her.

.

.

“Top 10 hottest TV couples…Congrats! ya’ll made the list.”

They’re all at Siggy’s place for a cookout and she’s reading from some website. “Hmmm….’Valdemar and Shreya make fighting look like foreplay’….not bad you two!”

Athelstan snickers from the refrigerator, emerging with two beers in hand. He gives one to Ragnar. “If they only knew.”

“Shut up, Athelstan, leave them alone and go check on the burgers.”

He grumbles but goes outside to the grill. Ragnar goes with him.

“Glad to see you guys back together. You okay?” Siggy says peering over her laptop screen at Lagertha.

“Yeah. We worked through it.”

“I’m glad. I’m a sucker for love. You two are my OTP, if you didn’t know already. I put first dibs on being the flower girl.” They both laugh.

.

.

After months of shooting they finally get a break longer than a weekend.

“Come home with me.”

“Where’s home?”

“My farm.”

She agrees to go. What she hadn’t agreed to was a “meet the family”. And Ragnar has a big, loud family. Two brothers, and a four nephews.

“How do you take it?” Lagertha yells over the sound of four grown men and four boys watching football.

Ragnar’s mom, Nancy, yells back. “You’ll get used to it!” They retreat back into the kitchen where it’s a little quieter.

“I’ve been the only woman in the group since I married John,” she says giving Lagertha a look. “You know hun…this family has a lot of boys.”

“Oh no—we’re not, um…”

Nancy laughs.

“Just so you know, Ragnar’s never brought a woman home.”

.

.

They’re sleeping in his room, when both of their phones start buzzing. Ragnar tries to ignore it at first. But then, his starts to ring. After the fourth ring, he rolls over and answers it. Lagertha stirs on his chest and snuggles closer, her leg draped over his.

“Hello?”

“Hey Ragnar, I need a statement from you.”

It’s his agent, Torstein.

“A statement for what?” He’s not quite awake, and it comes out raspy.

“About you and Lagertha.”

At that, he is awake.

“What for? What are you talking about?”

“There’s a picture of you and Lagertha, in bed, together. Just…go look and call me back.”

Torstein hangs up and Ragnar feels Lagertha’s hands across his chest, her body arching against his in a stretch. She’s awake.

“What was that?”

 “My agent wants a statement. He says there’s a photo of us…” She raises her head to look at him and beckons for his phone. He gives it to her. She rolls onto her back and starts looking. He watches her face and her eyes widen just a bit.

 “You should talk to your nephews, Ragnar.”

“What did they do?”

She shows him the picture on the phone. It is the two of them, under the blankets in bed. He’s got an arm around Lagertha and she’s curled against him. They’re both still fully clothed, but because of the blankets…it’s far more suggestive. And it’s got a caption: “Uncle Ragnar and his girlfriend.”

.

.

It’s the day before they’re supposed to leave, and Ragnar’s phone rings. They’re all in the kitchen talking and laughing as Ragnar stands and leaves the room. But they’re having a good time, and Lagertha figures he’ll be back eventually. A few minutes go by. And then an hour. And then two.

“Where’s Ragnar?”

“I haven’t seen him since the phone call, Lagertha says. “I’ll go find him.”

She starts walking down the hall toward the room they’ve been staying in. His old room. The door is closed and she knocks gently before opening it. Ragnar is pacing, still on the phone, his voice low. It’s almost like déjà vu. She’s seen this before. He’s engaged in a heated conversation and the look on his face is equally as familiar and equally as frightening. She backs out, but he looks and spots her and hangs up.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Everyone noticed you were missing. I came to find you.”

He closes the door and locks it before pulling her down to the bed and coming to lay on top of her. His lips move immediately to hers, and she knows exactly what’s about to happen.

“Stop.”

He shakes his head, his mouth now on her neck.

“I just need…a distraction,” he says against her skin.

“But not at your parent’s house…” she whispers to him as he goes down, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them off. His fingers lace around her panties, pulling those down too before coming to put his head between her legs.

“Please…” but he’s already doing what he wants to do and all she can do is grab a pillow and hold on and try not to make too much noise.

.

.

Ragnar’s unofficial baby sitters club is growing. He’s now got five toddlers wrapped around his legs and he’s feeding the baby in his arms with a bottle.

“I swear this never gets old,” Siggy says grinning. “Admit it. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

Warm yes…fuzzy isn’t quite how she’d describe the other feeling. 

Turns out, the baby in his arms is theirs. Their TV daughter, rather. Their characters get a child. And as Lagertha lays back in Ragnar’s arms holding the baby, he whispers low so that only she can hear.

“Do you want one?”

It makes her heart beat faster, and when the director yells “Action”. She’s more than a little flustered.

.

.

“Are you sure there are no other options?” She’s at the OBGYN’s office for a regular checkup. They’ve had this conversation before, but it’s been a while. And she’s hoping there’s something for her.

“Sorry Lagertha, the issue hasn’t changed.”

It sucks.

At issue is the fact she’s allergic to birth control. At least the stuff that’s in the pills and the IUD’s. The only thing she has to rely on are condoms. But there’ve been more than a few near misses. Not to mention Ragnar’s baby talk. She’s antsy.

Another near-miss happens a few days later.

“What?!” It comes out as a hiss and she draws a breath as Ragnar’s eyes go wide at her.

“I’m sorry …” she’s biting her lip. Ragnar has stopped moving and when he rolls off she feels the loss acutely--The loss of his warmth, the feel of his weight on her…and the emptiness he left between her thighs.

They keep condoms everywhere. He has them in his pocket and his wallet, she’s got them in her purse. The packages are stashed in both their dressing rooms, and at their places. So it’s not like he should be mad that she’s insisting. And he’s not…it’s just…

It happens right before he’s about to go in and every time this happens it completely ruins it.

When he comes back to the bed she’s curled under the blankets. He moves them back and climbs in again, but she’s got her face buried under in a pillow.

“Is there anything you can take?”

She has told him about this, before.

“No. Nothing. I asked the other day.”

He’s quiet, debating on whether to ask the other question he’s been weighing for a while now. Finally, he lifts the pillow and puts it back under both of their heads. Now he can face her.

“Do we really need them, Lags?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want to get pregnant.”

A pause…one second…two seconds…three…

“I don’t think I ever said that.”

Now it’s Lagertha’s turn to get quiet. She knows where he’s going with this… Ragnar gets closer until they’re nose-to-nose.

“Make a baby with me.”

.

.

“What does it say?”

She’s anxious. Ragnar’s sitting on the couch, holding the stick and she’s on his lap. He’s squinting at the plastic…and then he smiles.

“You’re pregnant.”

Pregnant.

She lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and puts her forehead to his. They rub noses, and kiss gently.

“Are you okay, Lags?” He knows she’s been scared, not about getting pregnant, but what comes afterward. She’s told him this. They stopped using the condoms two months ago. A part of him is surprised it happened so fast. But another part isn’t. They’ve been together a year, and he knew since the moment he walked into the chemistry test—that she was the one. To be honest, he knew she was the one when he saw her the night before at the club.

Her lips come to his, and she traces the outline of his mouth with his tongue before finding the place on his neck she knows drives him crazy.

“I’m fine.”

.

.

“Can we tell everyone now?”

It’s midnight, and the alarm on his phone is going off. He’d programmed it after her first appointment—it’s the 12-week marker. Three months. They’re officially out of the danger zone.

“You seriously made an alert for this?”

They’re in his bed, in the cabin and she’s laughing as she says it. Ragnar is so excited, he’s almost like a child waiting for Christmas. Ever since they found out he’s been pretty much attached to her. To the point that Siggy has asked what the heck she did to him.

“He’s worse than a puppy,” she’d said.

“It depends. Who is everyone?”

“My family. Your family. Our friends,” he says.

“Which friends?”

“Siggy and Athelstan.” She nods.

“And we have to tell HR.” She agrees to that too.

“The rest will find out when they find out.” He nods.

Ragnar’s talking to his mother when Nancy demands to speak with Lagertha.  “It’s a boy just so you know,” Ragnar’s mother tells her. It makes her laugh. “We won’t know until month five.”

“Remember…all sons. It’s all Lothbrok men have,” Nancy tells her.

Lagertha breaks the news to Siggy. “I knew it!!! So _that’s_ what you did to him!”

“Technically, it’s what he did to me.”

Ragnar gives the news to Athelstan. “Hmmm…I wonder if I could talk Siggy into it?” He says with a grin. “Congrats. You just put Lagertha into MILF territory.” Because…Athelstan.

Finally, they tell HR—specifically, they tell Ecbert. “Don’t worry, I can write around anything!”

.

.

The gown is gorgeous, Grecian-inspired with an empire waist and slender straps on the shoulders. When she picked it a week ago, it fit perfectly. But now the top is too tight. And her breasts look and feel as if they’re going to pop out.

A lot can change in a week.

Ragnar comes into her room and sees her looking in the mirror. He’d never thought she could get more beautiful, but she has. They’re going on month five and he’s never seen a sexier pregnant woman. And that dress…

He comes up behind her, placing his arms around her to feel on her belly and on her breasts. Those are way larger, and he’s tempted to skip the awards and cut straight to the after party. He’s never been so damn horny—no one had told him a perpetual erection could result from pregnancy.

“My boobs are way too big.”

“You’re boobs are perfect. Can I have one?”

“Stop it, Ragnar. Should I wear something to cover them?” He brings her around to face him.

“You look great. Now come on. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come home.”

When they step out of the limo they’re nearly blinded by the whites of flash bulbs. There are people everywhere, and Ragnar grabs Lagertha’s and hand pulls her closer as they make their way down the red carpet.

“Ragnar! Lagertha over here!” They stop and pose for photos, and as he looks down at Lagertha he can’t help but to be reminded yet again, that she’s pretty much everything to him. She’s glowing. He’d heard pregnant women glow but he’s never seen it, until now. Her skin her hair, even her eyes, everything about her is brighter. Vibrant. He’s so busy looking he misses the reporters approaching them until it’s too late. Ragnar is terrible at interviews.

 “Ragnar and Lagertha first question. Who are you wearing?”

He’s got no idea, but Lagertha answers it. “He’s in Ralph Lauren and this dress is by Lazaro.”

“How does it feel to be nominated for Emmys?”

“It’s wonderful and we’re so appreciative of the support from the fans and the network.”

“Are you…pregnant?”

“Oh, they’re calling to us. Thanks so much, bye!”

They get out of it. He gets out of it without having to say a word.  They win best actor and best actress. There are two obligatory after-parties, and they stay just look enough for photos as evidence before retreating to their hotel.

Finally, he gets to take that damn dress off.

And when they’re done and basking in the afterglow, he gets to feel on her belly and touch his baby. When he puts his lips on her stomach, he feels something. It’s quick, like a flutter. But he felt it.

“What was that?”

Lagertha is smiling at him. “That’s your son.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?” She’s grinning now. “I had to go to the doctor today. It’s definitely a boy.”

She reaches over for her purse and pulls out the picture and points at a spot. Ragnar grins and kisses her belly again. “Oh yeah. He’s a Lothbrok!” Lagertha laughs.

They wake the next morning to the sound of Lagertha’s phone ringing.

“Hey Helga.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to make this announcement? I could have been prepared for it, at least.”

“What do you mean? We didn’t make any announcement,” Lagertha says. “What are you talking about?”

“Look at Entertainment Weekly. You two are the front page.”

She grabs Ragnar’s phone and looks. Sure enough, they are the front page—two full-length photos. In the first, Ragnar’s got an arm around her waist standing close, and his hand is on her belly protectively. The second has Ragnar gazing down at her, seemingly looking at her boobs….likely looking at her boobs. And she’s visibly pregnant.

“Sheildmaiden Actor, Actress Announce Surprise Pregnancy” is the headline.

“Well that’s presumptuous of them. Who says the baby is Ragnar’s?”

Helga scoffs. “Please. It’s obvious. You’re pregnant and you come with him. And he’s touching your belly.”

She laughs. “Well, it’s out now.”

“okay. So do you want to give me a statement or write one up?”

“Just say that we’re pleased or excited and are looking forward to this new phase of our lives…or something like that.”

“Got it.”

They hang up and Lagertha gives Ragnar his phone back, showing him the pictures.

‘You were looking at my boobs, weren’t you?” He nods with a grin and rolls her over onto her back before moving on top of her.

“I can’t help it. I love it all.”

And he goes about showing her just how much he loves it.

.

.

After what seems like forever, Ragnar finally gets a new phone. And the first few days they have trouble telling them apart.

One of them is ringing and she picks it up, not really looking at it. “Hello?”

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Um, _who_ is this?”

The voice on the other side is female.

“Is Ragnar there?”

“Yes, may I ask whose calling?”

“This is Aslaug. Can you put my husband on the line?”

Lagertha doesn’t remember much after that…she does remember giving Ragnar the phone…and she sort of remembers the look on his face…she vaguely recalls him trying to talk to her…and maybe she had slapped him…maybe she had done more than slap….but it’s all kind of hazy.

What’s not hazy is the white hot anger that’s been coursing through her for two weeks now.

She’s too pregnant for this shit. Seven months pregnant and they’ve just moved into their house. Ragnar had been assembling the crib in the nursery when she picked up the phone.

Since then, they’ve been in separate rooms. And she’s made sure her calendar is full so that she can avoid him as much as possible. He’s tried to talk to her, but she’s refused him, too angry to hear anything. He’s fucking married.

It had been way too good to be true. She should have known there was a catch.

Yeah. She’s way too pregnant for this shit. But she’s temporarily stuck with his stupid-ass. They bought the house. And she’s not moving. And apparently, neither is he.

“Talk to me.”

“We don’t have anything to say to each other.”

“Lagertha can you please hear me out?”

“For what? Anything else you need to drop on me?”

He’s cornered her in the garage and walks with her into the house. She sits on the couch and he takes a chair across from her. The wine is looking really good right now. The entire bottle really.

“My divorce was finalized today.”

“Good for you.”

“Lagertha, it was a mistake I made two years ago and I’ve been trying to fix it ever since. I’m sorry. I meant to tell you, I really did.”

“But you didn’t. Do you have any other kids I should know about?”

“No.”

“Any other ex-girlfriends, wives, that I should know about?”

“No.”

“Where you just so _high_ you fucking _forgot_ you were married?”

“Lagertha…” there’s a warning there, but she ignores it.

“What the fuck Ragnar? Did you just spot me out because you wanted someone dumb enough be your baby factory?”

“Stop it, Lags.”

“No. YOU stop it. Stop the bullshit. I got pregnant by a MARRIED MAN. I guess that’s why you skipped the proposal and jumped straight to the baby, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like that…”

“Then what is it like?!” She’s standing up now and yelling, fully prepared to deck his ass again. He stands up too and grabs her hands before she can swing on him. He’s still got a bruise from where she hit him with one of the rails for the baby’s crib.

“How can I fix this? Tell me how? I want to fix this. I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want to lose my son.”

She hasn’t cried throughout this whole thing. She’s been too furious to cry. But Ragnar is, and it’s something she’s never seen from him before. It stunts her anger, and she feels immediately torn between wanting to kill him and wanting to forgive him. Her eyes feel hot.

“I don’t know how you fix this,” she tells him before leaving the living room and going to their bedroom, locking the door behind her.

The divorce was finalized today.

.

.

Both of their moms have come down ahead of the baby’s arrival. It’s been a long past few months and while her anger has cooled, Lagertha just hasn’t been able to bring herself to forgive her….sperm donor.

Because they aren’t married. They aren’t engaged. She’s more than his girlfriend but less than his wife, and baby mama, while accurate, feels demeaning.

Her mom comes first and Caroline greets Ragnar cordially before spiriting her daughter away to talk. They barricade themselves in the master bedroom.

“You can always sell the house and sue his ass for child support. I raised you by myself. You can do the same for your son.”

Her mom’s a pragmatist. And yes, Caroline was a single-mom. But it’s not what Lagertha imagined her own situation to be. Had she known she never would have agreed to make this baby. She never intended to raise their child alone. And it just makes her cry.

Nancy arrives a short while later.

“Hi Mom.”

“Raki, why didn’t you tell her the truth?” They’ve talked about it on the phone, but as she sees her son she can tell he’s truly hurt. Ragnar looks tired, and for the first time she thinks he actually looks his age—or older. There are dark circles under his eyes and she can tell he’s been drinking.  She can smell it on him. A clear sign if there ever was one.

“Come here.”

 She gives her baby a hug, because, at the end of the day, he still is her youngest, and he is still her baby.

“Where is she?”

“In the room with her mom.”

“I’ll be back. Go out and get some air.”

.

.

There’s a knock at the door and Caroline opens it to see Ragnar’s mother standing there.

“Hi, I’m Nancy. Raki’s mom.”

“Caroline.” Lagertha’s mom moves to shake Nancy’s hand, but Nancy wraps her in a hug. Caroline’s not a hugger and it’s awkward, but either Nancy doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“I come from a family of huggers” she says, walking past Caroline and coming to settle next to Lagertha.

“How are you doing, baby?” Lagertha hugs Nancy. She’s not mad at Ragnar’s mom, she’s mad at him, and she does truly adore the woman.

“I’ve been better.”

“I know. I’m sorry about my son. I thought you knew. If I knew you didn’t I would have told you myself.”

Caroline comes back over to them.

“Why didn’t Ragnar tell her?” She demands.

“Because my son is an idiot, he always has been. He’s never been in love, and I think…he was probably afraid,” Nancy says, looking at the woman she already considers her daughter.

“Lagertha, let me ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

“Do you love Raki?”

Lagertha nods.

“Then it’s simple. You love him. He loves you. And he wants his family.”

“It’s not that simple, he lied to her.” Caroline again.

“Alright Caroline. Why don’t you go talk to Ragnar? See what he tells you.”

“Oh, I will.”

When he walks back in the house, Lagertha’s mother is waiting for him in the living room.

“Sit down.” Caroline is commanding. He knows exactly where Lagertha gets that part of her personality from. He knows better than to argue so he sits.

“Why did you lie to my daughter? Why didn’t you tell her you were married? And why did you get her pregnant knowing all of it?”

She fires off the questions back-to-back.

Ragnar runs his hand through his hair.

“I didn’t mean to lie. My divorce took longer than I thought. It started before I met Lagertha and in the beginning, it didn’t seem to matter all that much because we were new. But the paperwork got hung up and Aslaug kept refusing to sign. I kept trying…but by then there were other things, and I fell in love with Lagertha and I didn’t want to lose her. I felt it was never the right time, and I didn’t want her to be disappointed. I wanted to marry her…I still do, but I couldn’t and having a baby…”

“Was the next best thing.”

He nods.

Caroline looks at him, lips pursed.

“Why should I believe you?”

He digs around in his pocket a moment before pulling out something shiny and handing it to her.

“I bought it the day after she told me she was pregnant. I was planning to give it to her when the baby came. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to tell her about Aslaug. That it would just…resolve itself.”

She looks at him with a combination of pity and tenderness. Nancy was spot on about her son.

“I would suggest you go in that room, and give it to her now, Ragnar,” she says leaving him on the couch.

“Nancy, can I borrow you a minute?”

The two mothers depart, leaving Lagertha alone.

“Let’s get out the house,” Caroline says with a smile. “See what happens.”

.

.

She’s laying down when there’s a knock on the door and it opens. It’s Ragnar. He comes to settle on the side of the bed, reaching out to touch her belly. She doesn’t move as he puts his hand on it.

The baby kicks.

“He missed you.”

Ragnar smiles, and for the first time she notices that he looks exhausted.

“I missed you both.”

There’s silence. And he weighs the few options he’s got.

“Lagertha…I know you’re still mad. And I know what I did was wrong. But…I want us to be a family. There are no more secrets. You know them all.”

She tries to turn around but her belly is prohibitive and he has to help her sit up.

“Thanks.”

He chuckles a bit.

“I have something…I wanted to save it for when the baby came, but I probably did things in the wrong order.” He pulls out the ring and shows it to her. “I asked you if you wanted to make a baby with me. what I really wanted to ask was if you’d marry me.”

.

.

Her water breaks with Ragnar, naked, inside her. And by the time Nancy and Caroline get back, Lagertha’s in labor and Ragnar’s looking completely lost.

The mother’s take over.

“Not tonight,” Nancy says taking assessment of the contractions. “It’ll be a little while longer, hun.”

“How much longer?” Lagertha asks, breathing through one as it comes.

“You’ll definitely know it when it’s time,” Caroline tells her daughter. “Ragnar, stay with your fiancé, and keep her comfortable for the night. We’ll be right down the hall.”

The moms don’t comment on the fact Ragnar’s half naked, and Lagertha’s only got on a sheet.  They just high five each other and chuckle as they pack their overnight bags and get ready for the morning.

.

.

Bjorn arrives at 8:44 a.m. He’s 6 pounds 2 ounces, and he’s the most beautiful thing any of them have ever seen. Lagertha gives birth naturally, a shock for Caroline because she didn’t think her daughter would do it. But Ragnar had surprised her the most. He hadn’t bitched out and had quickly proved himself by staying by Lagertha’s side and holding her hand, talking her through it gently even as she cursed his ass.

The labor had progressed quickly and Bjorn came easily. They were all grateful for that. And watching her daughter and her soon-to-be husband hold their new baby was the best gift of all.

Caroline is pleased for her child. And when she gets to finally hold Bjorn, it’s the same feeling she had when she got to hold Lagertha for the first time. It’s like falling in love all over again. And as she hands the baby to Nancy, and she sees the look on her face too. They all feel the same way.

.

.

Lagertha quickly discovers that Ragnar is stingy and selfish. It’s actually pretty funny. All she’s has to do is feed their son. Ragnar has been up in the middle of the night changing diapers and playing with Bjorn. He hasn’t even wanted to give him to her, and so she’s gotten to pumping to make sure there’s a bottle for Ragnar when Bjorn wakes.

The daytime is for mommy and son. At nights, he’s daddy’s boy.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Siggy and Athelstan have come for a visit. Bjorn is six weeks old and he’s been an easy baby. They’ve got him on a feeding schedule and at the moment, he’s sleeping in Ragnar’s arms.

The women hug and Lagertha invites her friends inside. Siggy goes straight to the baby.

“Can I hold him?” Ragnar hesitates.

“Ragnar!”

 He hands Bjorn over and looks at her sheepishly. Siggy and Athelstan peer at the little one. “I think he looks like Ragnar,” Athelstan says. Siggy shakes her head. “No, definitely Lagertha. Look at the hair.”

Bjorn stirs and starts to make sounds. He’s waking up and that means lunchtime. Lagertha takes him and puts him to her chest, allowing him to latch on and they all go to the couch.

By now Ragnar’s used to it, and Siggy’s a woman, but poor Athelstan looks uncomfortable. Seeing it, she whispers to Ragnar for a blanket and he goes and comes back with one placing it on her shoulder.

“Thanks, dude. Sorry, Lagertha…I just didn’t want to stare at your boobs. They’re great but…” They all laugh at Athelstan.

“You’ll get used to it when you have kids,” Ragnar says. They slip into easy conversation.

 “Your son just got here and you’re already speaking like a pro,” Lagertha tells him as they prepare for bed. Bjorn is in his bassinet next to them, sleeping away as his parents climb under the blankets.

He lowers his head to nuzzle her gently. “I want more.” She can feel Ragnar against her rear and she smiles as she turns to face him. “Let me guess…you set an alarm, didn’t you?”

He smiles. “It went off this morning. Do you want to…practice?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs, and immediately winces. The birth had been easy but there’s still a bit of residual soreness. Seeing it, Ragnar backs down.

“Maybe I could do something else?”

“Like what?”

He disappears under the blankets and her hands grip his hair. “Easy boy.” It comes out as a moan.


	2. Sensual Seduction

“You got the part.”

It’s good news. He doesn’t feel any particular away about it. But it’s nice to know there won’t be a long break between jobs.

“Where’s it film?”

“Canada,” Torstein tells him. The long-haired, bearded bum of a man has been his agent for the past 15 years he’s lived in L.A. Ironically, they met at a bar. Today, as Torstein is filling him in on details, they’re at another one. Ragnar flips through the pages of the pilot script in his hand, skimming over it. He smiles at what he reads.

“Hey…I get sex scenes, nice. Do you know who she is yet?”

“Not yet. They’ve got about five different actresses they’re considering for the part. You have to go in to the offices tomorrow. They want to do chemistry tests.”

He frowns. “What’s that?”

 “They want to get you in a room. See how you interact with the women.”

He groans lightheartedly.  “Then I’m screwed.” Torstein laughs.

“You’re not dating them. So you should be good.”

A day later finds Ragnar in the corporate office, seated before a long table, five men in front of him.

“Ragnar, glad you made it. We’ve got the actresses here. We just need a quick read, some interaction. Hopefully, we’ll get through this quick,” the exec says. The others nod and look down at their scripts.

Three hours later and he’s still there. Three different women. He thinks he’s doing pretty good. The free kisses have been nice. And they’ve all liked him, too. He even gets two phone numbers. Those, he slips into his pocket. But apparently, what Ragnar thinks and what the men who are effectively his bosses think are two different things.  They call in another actress and Ragnar stands to greet her. They read.

It’s the same scene over and over again.

He goes in to kiss her, and she tenses up. “Hey, I’m not going to bite,” he tells her with a smile, trying to make her relax.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m just nervous.”

“Can we try again?” He calls to the board. They nod and Ragnar starts reading from the top again. This time when he goes in to kiss her, she kisses back…sort of. Her lips are drawn. He gets…mostly chin. She leaves.

He sits back in his chair. The execs talk among themselves. Having nothing else to do at the moment, Ragnar closes his eyes.

.

.

Late. She is so late.

All because her agent had wanted her to dress up as a damn “Viking”.

“It’s the part of the character,” Helga had said exasperatedly. “Do you want the role or not?”

“Yes, I want the role,” Lagertha argued.

“Then you WILL wear this.”

 _This_ is a purple tunic with a brown leather corset on top with men’s britches and a pair of riding boots. Her hair is braided up with dark eyeliner on, slightly smudged.

“You look hot,” Helga said, once she was done with her handiwork. Lagertha takes a look in the mirror. Not bad.

“So what’s his name?” She asks as they ride to the downtown Toronto offices of the parent network for the show.

“Ragnar Lothbrok,” Helga says. “He’s 6-foot, former model--”

“Ew.” Lagertha scrunches her nose at that. Helga ignores her. “He’s done a few movies, some small TV roles. Don’t know much else about him.”

“K. And I’m playing his wife. Got it.”

They pull up. “Need a ride back?” She shakes her head. “Nah. I’ve got a date after this.” She’s brought a change of clothes with her in her bag.

“Cool. Let me know how it goes.”

Lagertha walks into the lobby and the people around largely ignore her. It’s a network. A woman in costume isn’t unusual. She takes the elevator to the 14th floor and steps out, checking in with the receptionist.

“I’ll let them know you’re here,” the woman says going inside the conference room. She comes back. ‘They’re ready for you.”

Game time.

She’s read the script already, memorized the lines. And she’s got an idea of what she wants this character to be.

Lagertha walks into the conference room a smirk on her face. The panel stands to greet her.

“Lagertha Lowe,” she says shaking their hands one-by-one.

“Ms. Lowe,” says the man seated in the middle.  “Ragnar Lothbrok.”

 She turns to the man seated in the chair in front of the table, taking the time to size him up. He stands to approach her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

She doesn’t know what makes her do it. Divine Inspiration? Divine Stupidity? But the man is sexy. It drips off him. And not in a model kind of way. In a grown-ass-man kind of way.  In the kind of way that she could imagine leaving here with him and fucking him in the bathroom kind of way. And the way he’s looking at her—as if she’s water and he’s dying of thirst, let’s her know he’s thinking the same way too. It must be that damned beard.

So she goes for it. She grabs him by the shirt and pulls him close, kissing him. And his hands go straight to her ass.

When she lets him up for air, he’s grinning. And so is she.

“Uh… Lagertha, you got the part.” The voice comes from the panel.

“Oh good. Thanks.” She shakes their hands, and, without a second glance at Ragnar, leaves the room.

His eyes follow her out the door. It’s the first time he’s breathed since she released him.

Goddamn.

.

.

“So, having fun yet?”

They’re in Canada. The landscape is lush and green. Vibrant. The set for their show is extravagant—a fully redesigned village sent straight from the dark ages. It’s even complete with live animals…and it’s here, where Lagertha has just stepped in a pile of goat shit.

“Shut the fuck up, Ragnar.”

He’s leaning against one of the wood buildings, arms casually crossed, watching as she reaches for some hay to get the crap off her boot. It’s a gorgeous day, but it’s also ass cold. And she’s dressed not as a warrior, but in a cotton dress that’s pretty shapeless. He’s got on a long tunic, his hair shaved on the sides and in the back, a long pony-tail hanging down. A baby goat walks past and bleats. She hisses at it, and it scurries.

“Why are you mad at the kid? It didn’t do anything,” Ragnar’s still smirking as he reaches for the baby goat and holds it in his arms. She just wrinkles her nose, ignoring him while trying to clean her boot off.

“I’m not mad. But you’re going to make me in a minute. Why are you just lurking?”

He’s been hovering—ever since they started filming. Ragnar’s sexy faded within the first week. Now, they all know to watch out for him, especially after the first prank he pulled. The poor cameraman had blushed for a week after his underwear were strung up on a banner pole.

“I’m just scouting,” he says watching her closely.

“Scouting. Right. I’m not falling for it. Go harass someone else.”

But he’s laughing now, and she realizes, somehow…she’s his victim.

“What did you do?”

Ragnar snickers at her.

“How do you think that goat shit got there?”

Lagertha’s so mad she throws the hay in his direction. He just keeps laughing and walks off.

.

.

“Hey are we going out tonight?”

They’ve just wrapped the pilot and Rollo walks over, draping an arm across her and Ragnar’s shoulders.

“Yeah. Where are we going?”

“I know a bar in Toronto. Where the locals hang. We can go there.”

Lagertha nods. “I’m down.”

“Cool, I’ll tell the others,” Rollo says walking off. She heads to her dressing room and gets changed. Later, at her apartment, Lagertha searches for what to wear. She settles on a pair of wedge sneakers, dark wash skinny jeans, a white wife-beater and bomber jacket.

By the time she arrives at the bar, Bjorn, Rollo and Ragnar are failing at a game of pool. She sidles up to them, watching as Rollo sinks the white ball.

“That’s a damn shame,” she says shaking her head. Ragnar takes a swig of his beer.

“And you think you can do better?” He says looking at her. She takes the bottle of his hand and finishes the rest of it. “Yep.”

Rollo hands her the cue. Bjorn realigns the balls. She bends over, lining up with the white ball...she draws back…

The hand on her ass makes her jump and she misses completely. She whirls on Ragnar, giving him a not-so-playful punch on the arm.

“That was for stealing my beer,” he laughs ducking.  Rollo and Bjorn are smirking. “Whatever. Now. Watch, _boys_ …and learn.”

She cues up again and this time manages to sink five balls on the first try.

.

.

He’s been waiting for this. Ragnar’s almost gleeful about it. The first sex scene. With Lagertha. It calls for her to ride him. Their “house” is cold, but at least there’s a fire, and plenty of furs. And he’s got a surprise for her. He’s already under the covers laying down and waiting. They’re all waiting…on Lagertha to come out.

When she does, he smiles and wags his eyebrows at her. She’s got a t-shirt on, and for all appearances, nothing else. She rolls her eyes at him.

“Alight are you two ready to go?”

“I’m always ready for her,” he pipes up. The film crew chuckles and she rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.” Lagertha comes to stand over him. She gets to her knees, sitting on legs and takes off the shirt to reveal…a flesh-toned bra. And short-shorts.

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be naked?” He’s kind of disappointed. She sees it, and laughs.

“Wishful thinking, Ragnar. Keep the dream alive.”

“Alight, action!”

He still has an ace up his sleeve.

 She closes her eyes and begins to simulate sex…on him…and…he’s quite enjoying it, really. She’s not looking at him and he’s just out of the shot, so no one can see when he takes the little egg-shaped toy and flips a switch…and places it right up against her…

“You fucking bastard!”

She wails on him and he dodges the blows and rolls away, cracking up. Lagertha is standing now, glaring at him.

“Cut! Cut!”

Ecbert did you get it? Because I am NOT doing that again!”

She grabs her shirt and stomps off.

He’s still laughing.

.

.

“Why do you continue to fuck with Lagertha? You know she’s going to get your ass,” Bjorn says one day while they’re taking some down time.

“I can’t help it. She’s sexy as hell when she’s pissed,” he shrugs.

They’re in a boat, floating on a lake, waiting on their next scenes. The rocking is slowly making him sleepy.

Rollo is laughing. “That she is…but you’ve seen the way she fights. I’m not trying to get in front of those hands. Or those legs.”

He chuckles, laying down in the boat and staring at the sky.  He doesn’t want to get in front of her hands either…but he wouldn’t mind getting between her legs.

.

.

She knows damn well why Ragnar’s fucking with her. So tonight, she’s going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Tonight, they’re going out to a club. And she makes sure that the outfit she chooses is meant for maximum effect.

“How do I look, Siggy?” She asks.

Siggy takes appraisal.

“Like you want to be laid.”

“Good.”

“Who’s your target?” Siggy asks, putting on her lipstick in the mirror. “Ragnar,” Lagertha smirks as she adjusts the straps of her dress and smooths it down in the back. It barely covers her breasts, and it plunges to her navel in the front. It’s completely backless and it’s short. Very, very short.

“Oooh, I’m telling.” Torvi chimes in, slipping into her shoes.

“No. I’m not trying to fuck him. This is karma,” she says as they grab their keys and purses and head out the door. “I’m tired of his bullshit.”

“So what are you going to do?” Siggy asks as they get into the cab. “I’m going to make him suffer,” Lagertha tells them with a wicked smile.

The club is pulsing when they arrive. And they see the guys seated at a table by the bar.

“Well hello…” Rollo says walking up to Siggy.

“Hey, you.” She gives him a grin and cuts her eyes at Lagertha and walks away with him.  Torvi sidles up to Bjorn. “Can I buy you a drink?” She’s the most clothed out of all three of them.

“I will never say no to free liquor,” he gets up and follows her to the bar.

Lagertha takes a seat next to Ragnar.  A waitress comes over.

“May I take your order?”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says. If there’s one thing she has learned about Ragnar, it’s that he’s got excellent taste in beers.

The waitress goes, leaving them alone for the moment. She crosses her legs, her already short shirt getting higher, and turns to look out at the dance floor. She can feel Ragnar’s eyes on her and she hides her smile.

“Nice dress.”

“Thanks.”

He takes a long drink from his bottle. In reality, the dress is just a few strategically placed strips of fabric. …it’s barely covering anything at all. And that thigh… The waitress brings back her beer, and Lagertha takes her time, wrapping her lips around the head of the bottle…circling the rim with her tongue…

There’s the clanking of glass.

“Fuck.”

She looks. Ragnar has knocked over the glasses, spilling water on himself.

“Let me help you with that.”

 She grabs a few napkins and reaches over down to his lap…to ‘help’ him.

“You’re twisted, you know.” He flashes her a grin and she laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one all wet.” She gets up and starts walking to the dance floor. He follows. The music starts to slow down and she starts dancing. Ragnar gets close, wrapping his arms around her.

“You’re taunting me,” he says. The music is loud, and no one can hear their private conversation.

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her ass presses against him, and she can feel that he’s hard. Warm lips come to the back of her neck. She turns her head slightly, and his mouth follows accordingly, his tongue against the side of her neck, trailing up behind her ear…

“Oh really?” He whispers sliding a hand between her legs. She arches back against him…“Who’s wet now?”

Ragnar can’t see her grin. But he feels where her hands are. She’s reached behind to undo his pants. Lagertha turns around and he pulls her close as she pulls him out, keeping him in her hand.

“Impressive.”

 “Want to give it a try?” He lowers his head to her neck again, his mouth on her shoulder…She’s getting him off in the middle the club, surrounded by hundreds of people…She hears the hitch in his voice. She feels him grip her ass harder and she knows…

He groans…

“Lagertha….”

 She ignores what her body is saying…ignores what it wants. This isn’t about pleasure, it’s about revenge and she’s about to get hers…

He bites down hard on her shoulder, and when he does, she knows he’s very nearly there…

Lagertha releases him abruptly and walks away.

It takes him a good long minute to realize what the fuck just happened.

“Dude…” It’s Rollo, coming up to him.

“What?”

He’s still in a haze. Rollo’s voice sounds far away.

“Your cock is out.”

.

.

The club incident brings him down a few notches. Actually…it brings him down a lot. And he doesn’t mess with Lagertha after that. Instead, he turns his attention to others. Athelstan become his new target.

A different night, different bar, and this time he’s been left alone to his own devices. No one else wanted to go drinking on a Monday night.

But that’s probably in his favor because right now there are two women eye-fucking him from the corner. And well…he’s been here now for about two months and it’s the longest he’s gone without getting off so…he eye fucks them back. And later that night…he’s doing a lot more than eye-fucking…

He makes some new friends.

And a few nights later he makes some more.

Now that he’s got them on steady rotation, who says three’s a crowd?

.

.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

It was Siggy’s idea to go somewhere a little more upscale, and they’re all hanging out at the rooftop bar and lounge overlooking downtown Toronto. It’s a cool night, and Ragnar and Lagertha are stretched out on one of the long ottomans scattered around the deck.

 “I’m good.” He takes the beer to the head, finishing off the bottle and reaching for another in the bucket next to them. He pops the top and takes the first swig before Lagertha steals it out of his hand and raises it to her lips.

He snatches it back and puts a fresh one in her hand.

The action doesn’t escape her attention. “Oh no you don’t.  Explain. What was that about?” He’s always let her steal his beers. It’s a thing. Ragnar’s been acting strange all night. And she’s getting to the bottom of it.

“It wasn’t about anything. I really wanted that one.”

“There are five more just like it in the bucket.”

“I’ve been…sick…I didn’t want you to catch what I got.” He fake-coughs.

“Bullshit. It wouldn’t have anything to do with those women you’ve been screwing, would it?”

How’d she know?

Seeing Ragnar grimace, Lagertha covers her mouth to stifle her laughter at his obliviousness.  “You haven’t googled yourself lately, have you? Women talk, Ragnar.”

“Yeah well, maybe I wouldn’t if you would.” He’s straight up moping. Because despite his new friends, what he really wants he can’t seem to get, and it’s ten times worse when what he wants is curled against him, so close and yet so far away.

“Oh?” At this, she sits up. “If I would WHAT, Ragnar?”

He doesn’t answer, just takes another drink of his beer.

 The probability he’s getting with Lagertha ever is steadily dropping with each moment of this cringe-worthy conversation. If she were anyone else he wouldn’t even be having it. But he’s already outed himself, and she knows him way too well at this point.

Lagertha yawns.  Another breeze comes through, cooler and it makes her shiver a bit so she scoots closer into Ragnar’s body. He’s warm. Firm. And he smells good.  Sexy as hell too. But, oh well.

He’s full of bad habits. The women are just the latest. There’s also the drinking. The constant playing.

What a waste. A waste of a fine ass man.

.

.

The day comes when they have to film the break up. Their characters are getting a divorce. It seems his character has a wandering eye…and a wandering something else, too. Actually, Ragnar’s been trying not think about the similarities.

 Lagertha’s pacing the set…getting ready to film. She’s trying to get into it. Trying to focus on being sad…on being angry…crying doesn’t come easy to her.

“I’m always good for a free ride when you’re ready.” He whispers it in her ear right before the director yells “Action” and when the cameras go and she looks at him—fake tears in his eyes…and she laughs, imagining the way he looked at the club when she walked away.

“Cut!!”

“You’re laughing at my pain?” He asks mockingly but she’s laughing too hard to even try to bring up a tear.

“I hate you,” she gasps.

He leans over to her. “I know.”

.

.

They’re taking a quick break to go to promote their show. As soon as they step off the plane there are fans everywhere. They sign autographs and smile for the cameras and then whisked away for a photoshoot. She’s got a red pants jumpsuit. Rollo and Bjorn are dressed in jeans and pressed shirts. Ragnar’s got on…clothing.

They line up.

“Just have fun,” the photographer tells them. And they do. The camera catches it all. Including when Bjorn picks her up, and she reaches for Rollo, and Ragnar puts her foot in his mouth and licks her toes.

“Why’d you do that?” She hisses at him as they all climb back into the car and head toward the convention center.

“I have an oral fixation,” he shrugs. She just glares.

He’s even worse at the panel.

“What do you love about your character?” The moderator asks her.

“I love that she’s a strong mother, and a wife and a warrior—that she can be all three…”

“And she’s sexy,” Ragnar mumbles into the mic.

She tries to ignore him and keep going.  Another question from the moderator.

“Ragnar and Lagertha, did you guys have instant fight chemistry?” The rest of the panel snickers.

“They had instant _fuck_ chemistry,” Athelstan leans over whispering it to Siggy…but he’s bad at it and the mics pick up everything. The hall erupts into cat calls and laughs.

“I thought it was foreplay,” Ragnar weighs in.

“I’m going to kill you,” Lagertha says into her mic with a smile that’s not-quite nice as the audience and the rest of their friends chuckle.

The picture ends up on the front cover of Entertainment Weekly. Lagertha being held by the guys. Ragnar with her foot in his mouth. 

.

.

“You are sexy, you know.”

They’re preparing for a fight scene. He’s in black leather and she’s in her shield-maiden outfit. They’ve given Ragnar tattoos on his head making him look like a Viking biker. It’s a fun mix.

“I know. And my answer is still no.”

“Action!”

And they go. Pushing and shoving. She’s totally into it. So into it that she forgets Ragnar is next to her. And when she swings her shield she hits something solid.

He goes down hard.

“Cut!!”

She looks down and panics a bit.

“Ragnar! Oh fuck…” she checking him over for other injuries aside from the gash across his forehead. He gets up slowly, reaching for his head. There’s a cut above his right eye that’s starting to bleed. The medic comes and looks him over.

“That’s going to need stiches,” he says.  Ragnar rolls his eyes and sighs but reluctantly goes with him.

“Damn. You beamed him,” Bjorn says coming over. “He had it coming,” Siggy says.

And maybe he did. But she still feels bad for it.

When they wrap for the day, she goes to his dressing room to find him.

“Hey.” He’s laying down on a cot with an ice pack on the right side of his face.

“Possible concussion.” Ragnar’s eyes are closed. His head is throbbing.

Lagertha comes close. He can feel her hovering.

“My bad.” He opens one eye and sees her biting his bottom lip nervously. It’s as close to an apology as he’s going to get.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Can I take you home?” She asks.

Huh. He hadn’t thought about getting back to his cabin.

“I could use a ride.” He gets up, wincing a bit against the lights in the room. She leaves to get a car and meets him out front of the studio. He gets in and leans the seat back.

“You’ll have to guide me.”

“It’s just a few miles up the road.” They ride in silence. He’s still in his wardrobe. She’s still in hers.

Lagertha pulls up to a small clearing. There’s a little cabin, and a sprawling Lake behind it. It’s serene. Quiet. As pretty as a picture.

She goes to open the passenger side door and help Ragnar inside.

The cabin is all one room with a fireplace, a bed, a table and a tiny refrigerator/microwave combo with a toaster oven and a hot plate on top.  He sits on the bed and Lagertha bends down to remove his boots. He lets her, just watching as she works.

It’s chilly, and she brings in some wood from outside and starts a fire before helping to free him of his armor.  She rolls the covers back.

“Lay down.”

He obeys, still watching as she turns away from him again and starts rummaging around the fridge. When she stands up she’s got some soup and has managed to find a few crackers.

The pain in his head is starting to dissipate, and it eventually becomes a dull ache. By now it’s late, and she’s got two bowls of soup ready. She hands one to him and he sits up to eat it. Ragnar swears it’s the best soup he’s ever tasted…although in truth these are leftovers from yesterday’s cast lunch. When he’s done she takes the bowl and rinses them off outside with the water hose.

“Can I get you anything?”

“It’s late.”

“Yeah. I know. I’m about to head out.”

He doesn’t want her to go.

“Can you stay?” Lagertha looks at him. His face is serious and she knows he isn’t joking around this time.

“Where am I going to sleep?”

He slides over in the bed, making room for her. She looks at the space, then at him.

“I won’t attack you. My head hurts too much,” he explains.

Lagertha takes off her boots and comes to lay next to him. Ragnar wraps the covers around them both, and they fall asleep. Sometime in the night, he brings an arm around her waist, and she burrows closer against him, into his warmth.

.

.

.

 They’re done filming, time to head back stateside.

“So where are you going?” Bjorn asks Athelstan.

“I’m doing an off-broadway show. I’ll be in the city for the time being,” he says.

Ragnar fake-pouts. “So that means no quality time for me?”

They all laugh. Ragnar delights in making the younger man uncomfortable. Poor Athelstan has never been able to tell whether Ragnar is serious or not. And he’s been got more than once—especially in live interviews. To be honest Athelstan wouldn’t mind…but something just says don’t go there.

“I’m going back to New Orleans. I need to check on my shop.” Siggy runs a bakery in the French Quarter.

“How about you guys?” Rollo asks Ragnar and Lagertha.

“I’m heading to Iowa,” he says. “See if I can’t find a few women willing to make babies with me.” She pokes him in the side. “Is that all you think about?” He winks at her. “Want to be one of them?”

“Um…No. Sow your oats elsewhere.  I’m heading back to L.A. I feel sorry for those women.”

They split.

In truth, she’s got a few dates. Helga has decided it’s time for her to “get out more.”

“You’re hot, and you’re single and I don’t understand what the problem is and why you can’t find a man,” her friend/agent tells her when she lands.

“Helga, you know I’m picky.”

“Understatement. This one’s too short, this one’s too tall. This one’s too skinny, this one is too muscular---you even told that one guy he was too pretty! Seriously Lagertha…a man too pretty? What the hell are you looking for?”

“I guess I’ll know him when I see him.”

But she goes on the dates anyway.

And she sits for the interviews. Magazines. Television. She takes the downtime to do some light reading, and get in some good workouts.  She’s at her local dojo when her cell phone rings.

“Hey.”

She takes the call outside.

“Um, hey.”

“Miss me yet?” At that, she laughs. “What do you want, Ragnar?”

“I wanted to see if you’d like to join me, if you aren’t too busy.”

“I take it the future baby-mama search isn’t going to well?”

 He chuckles. “I haven’t looked. So, do you want to come down for a few days?”

Iowa. She’s never been. She’s curious. “What’s out there?”

“You don’t have to come.”  

“Okay. I’ll come.”

.

.

He doesn’t quite know what makes him dial her number. Actually, that’s a lie. He does, and he’d almost hung up before she answered. Now, he’s just grateful she picked up the phone. But now that she has…he has no fucking clue about what to do next.

Ragnar’s at the airport waiting on her plane to arrive. It’s November. They start filming again in January. He’s been at his parents’ farm, and for the most part, enjoying the serenity of being in the middle of nowhere. Taking care of the cows. Playing in the dirt.  It’s been nice, being with family. But it’s also made him realize how lonely his is.

When he arrived his nephews had climbed and pounced on him as soon as he walked through the doors of the house. And his brothers had tackled him to the ground. That was the good thing about family—here, there is no one to impress. Although, after a few days, the questioning had started. And it hasn’t let up since.

Anyone special?  A shrug.

When are you going to settle down? Not anytime soon.

What about kids? Gotta find the wife first.

How’s that going? Badly.

What’s the hold up? Don’t know.

The last answer isn’t quite genuine. He knows what the hold up is. It’s him. Always him. Every relationship he’s ever had he’s been fired. Sex can only keep them around so long, and when they get to see who he really is, usually they run. Maybe it’s because of the way he sulks sometimes. Maybe it’s because he’d rather stay home than go out. Maybe it’s the farming thing, perhaps it’s all three. L.A. girls don’t like country boys.

When he had his condo, it wasn’t so bad. Those relationships lasted longer. Until he invited them camping—city girls and the woods don’t mix. Bug bites on the back of the ass don’t make for romantic conversations.

And when he went full ‘Wildman’, even his friends had laughed at him.

There were a few though, who braved it.  But mostly because they felt sorry for him and thought he was broke. Perhaps those were a blessing though because he doesn’t want a woman who wants him because she thinks he has money or has none.  Ragnar learned a long time ago that money can buy sex but it can’t buy happiness.

His phone rings.

“Hey, I just got off the plane. Following the signs now.”

“I’m in baggage claim.”

It’s only a few minutes. The airport in Des Moines is small.

Lagertha’s dressed in wedge sandals, white shorts and a yellow tank top. It’s a simple outfit, on a not-so-simple woman.

“How many bags?”

“Just one, but its heavy.”

He grabs it off the conveyer and they leave.

“So, where are we going? Where am I staying?” She asks.

Staying…where _is_ she staying? They’re in his open air jeep, zipping down the highway. The only place he can think to take her is back to his parents’ house—an hour and a half hour drive from the airport. So, that’s where he goes.

Lagertha watches as the city fades into the background, and gradually, the suburbs go too. They’ve turned off the main highway and are now on a dirt road leading into…the fields?

“Are you kidnapping me?” She gives him a playful bump on the arm and takes a sip of water.

“It’s not kidnapping when the victim is willing.”

 She laughs. The air is warm, and its dry, but not uncomfortably so. Eventually, she falls asleep and when she does, Ragnar gets the chance to really study her.

Lagertha’s in the chair, feet up on the dash and her position gives him plenty of time to admire her legs, tanned against the white shorts. He remembers touching them at the club, and that memory brings forth a flood of sensation…he adjusts himself with one hand while keeping the other on the steering wheel. This little adventure was not well thought out.

They draw closer to his farm, and the sky is turning various shades of oranges, and blues and purple. By the time he pulls up, it’s dark.  He hadn’t told his parents he was bringing anyone home, and he hadn’t told his brothers either. Maybe he should have fudged it and found a hotel in Des Moines. But he was too stupid to do that either. Anyway, it’s too late now. They’re here.

She stretches and wakes up as the car comes to a stop.

“Where are we?”

“My farm.”

“Your…what?” Lagertha blinks and takes a look around. They’re parked in front of a large, long ranch-style house. Inside the lights are glowing.

“We’re at my parents’ house, actually,” he says grabbing her bag out the back.

He says it so casually, that she stands there…just blinking at him, trying to figure out what exactly he’s doing. Is this another one of games? A trick?

The porch lights come on as he starts walking up to the front door. She follows and they go inside. It smells wonderful…something is baking somewhere.

“Raki! You’re back!” A tall, lanky man that looks kind of like Ragnar comes from around the corner. “Whoa.”

He stops when he sees Lagertha.

“Yeah, I brought a friend with me,” Ragnar says, looking slightly sheepish.

“Lagertha this is my brother, Jason. Jason, Lagertha.”

She takes his hand and shakes it.

“Hi.”

“Hello…” he says slowly, looking back and forth between Ragnar and Lagertha. “Let me get Roth.” He heads off toward the back of the house.

“Who is Roth?”

“My other brother.”

Soon, a nearly identical man comes from the back of the house. He too stops.

“I told you,” Jason tells him.

Ragnar’s still kind of quiet, and Lagertha introduces herself.

“Well…this is…unexpected,” Roth says, taking her hand.

It’s all confusing. She’s starting to get uncomfortable. What the hell is Ragnar up too?

“Raki is that you?” A woman’s voice comes from the direction of the smells.

“Yep. It’s him, mom. And he’s brought a friend…” Jason and Roth are laughing quietly as a short, petite woman comes from the kitchen. Her hair is gray and she’s wearing jeans and a patterned shirt with an apron around her waist.

“I’m Nancy,” she says, taking the situation in as if it was an everyday thing.  “You must be Lagertha. I recognize you from the show. You work with Raki.” Lagertha reaches for her hand, but Nancy gives her a hug.

“We’re huggers around here,” she says. Lagertha laughs. “I see where Ragnar gets it from.”

“Come, I’ll show you to a room, Raki, get her bags.”

Ragnar follows them down the hall.

Later, it’s just the two of them.

“So…let me get this straight. You invite me to Iowa on a whim. You don’t think about where I’m staying…and for some reason you think bringing me back to your farm with your family is a good idea?”

Ragnar and Lagertha are talking in the bedroom.

“Pretty much.”

“You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Ragnar…why did you invite me here?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

She sighs.  “Well, I can salvage it. Tomorrow I’ll find a hotel and I’ll go there. What’s the nearest city?”

“It doesn’t have any hotels.” That’s a lie.

“What?”

“We’re about 40 minutes from Ames.” he tells her.

Fuck.

“So…you’ve quite literally trapped me here.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Hey Ragnar, us, mom and the kids are heading to the back field. We’ll be back in about 30!” Jason yells down the hall.

“No problem. We’ll be here.”

He steps back a moment to check the lock on the door. Satisfied, he goes over to her. Before Lagertha can even breathe again, he brings one arm behind her back and pulls her close, kissing her. She kisses him back, her arms coming around his shoulders. They stay like that, him running his fingers through her hair and hers in his beard, until he feels the urge to taste her more. Ragnar’s mouth goes from hers, to her neck, and around her shoulder, his tongue tracing the counters up and behind her neck.

Oh shit.

She moans. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he unbuttons her shorts allowing them to fall, and picks her up to put her on the edge of the bed. He kneels, spreading her legs and putting his face between her thighs and inhaling. Lagertha grabs his head, pushing him back and forcing him to look at her.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

He moves the fabric to the side and leans in, taking a long, slow lick on her clit. She gasps and jumps, but he’s got his arms around her waist and he pulls her back to him and goes in again, this time tracing a lazy circle around the center of it, before sliding his mouth down a little lower, and sticking his tongue inside.

Lagertha lets out a louder moan, her hands fisting his hair.

“Shhhh….” He breathes against her thigh, kissing both before resuming.

She reaches for a pillow to cover her mouth as he goes in…and out…and in again….

Her heart is racing and her legs are shaking and she’s got one hand gripping his hair and the other with a pillow to her face trying not to make a sound…but it’s failing fast as he starts to fuck her with his tongue and she starts to move her hips, matching the rhythm he’s set…

He takes the pillow from her, slides her panties off and takes off his shirt.

Another moan and no pillow this time…

Ragnar presses his lips against her thigh and starts to work his way back up. But she’s still shaking as he moves them higher on the bed, coming to lay on top of her.

Lagertha’s not sure how much more of this she can take…they’re at his family’s house and she’s on her back, legs open with Ragnar between them…it’s mortifying…it’s also a major turn on…and it’s got her breathing hard and uneven as he wraps his arms under her hips and pulls her down onto his dick.

It’s damn sure not small and she cries out at the twinge of discomfort that accompanies his entry.

 The flood begins in her toes as he starts to move inside her.  She feels her feet tingling, then her legs…and when it finally hits her she arches up and back trying to push him off and away…but he resists, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head as he keeps going, the sensations become overpowering. There has to be an outlet and there is…she starts to moan again…loudly, as he pushes the sounds from her with the force of his thrusts.

“What the hell is that?”

Jason and Roth are the first back into the house—and the sound of a woman’s moan comes floating from down the hall. They look at each other and start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Nancy steps in next—right as a string of curses can be heard.

All three look down the hall.

Nancy shakes her head. “Just like his damn father.”

“Oh come on mom, you know he’s never brought a girl home,” It’s Mark.  “Which means this one is special.”

“Yes, well…” Nancy purses her lips.

“Hey…you’re the one whose been pressing him on kids,” John nudges her in the side. “Now you get to hear him make them.”

“Shut up and get your nephews. They shouldn’t be hearing this.”

The boys laugh and go get their sons.

 

When he finally stops, everything is wet, and she’s exhausted, having been completely unprepared for that.

“Dinner’s ready!” Nancy calls from the kitchen.

Lagertha’s trying to get herself together as Ragnar casually gets up and goes to the door opening it.

“We’ll be right there.”

He comes back and touches her, but she swats his hand away.

“D-Don’t…T-Touch me.” Because another orgasm has started, and she has to bite the damn pillow to keep from screaming. He comes back to her to finish it off.

Ten minutes later, and finally she can form words.

“Where’s my bra? My panties?”

Ragnar looks around and shrugs. “But here are your shorts.”

She hops into them, quickly adjusting her shirt and trying to finger comb her hair. Lagertha can’t even look at Ragnar at the dinner table. One leg won’t stop jumping.

“Are you okay, hun?” Nancy’s looking at her with a smirk and she quickly takes a scoop of the pot pie on her plate.

“Yes, I’m fine. Wow, this is wonderful!” It really is. Rich and buttery, the crust just flaky enough…

“It’s Ragnar’s favorite,” his mother says. She’s got the same eyes as her son, sharp and piercing, and they’re glittering with amusement.  “I could teach you how to make it, if you want. Lothbrok boys are always hungry.”  Lagertha nods in between bites and swallows. “Yes, please.”

Jason and Roth look at Ragnar, who’s already popped the top on a beer and is halfway through it. They nudge each other.

“So, how’s the room? Is the bed comfortable?” Jason asks Lagertha.

“Oh yes, thanks. It’s great.”

“If you need new sheets, they’re down the hall in the linen closet,” Roth says. Jason lets out a guffaw.

She shakes her head so her hair can cover her face and they can’t see her turn red.

Nancy leans over to her. “Just keep it down for the kids,” she says with a wink and a smile.

Ragnar just listens in. It’s not a grilling, but he knows his mother and his brothers…they’re curious about the woman he’s brought home. After dinner, he walks her back to her room.

“They heard us!” Lagertha’s still mortified.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s NOT fine! You did that shit on purpose!”

“So? You liked it. Still want a hotel?” He asks.

“Yes! You are taking me back to Des Moines in the morning!” The door is slammed in his face. Well. That wasn’t exactly how he’d hoped this would go.

He turns to see Roth and Jason grinning from down the hall.

“What?”

They look at each other…

“You have pussy breath.”

.

.

“How mad at you is she?”

It’s 1 am in the morning and he’s sitting on the porch in the darkness, contemplating. Roth has come out to join him.

“Ah…pretty pissed. She wants to go back to Des Moines.”

“Huh. So…what lie did you tell to get her to come in the first place?”

He shrug. “I didn’t lie…I just didn’t think about where she’d stay when I asked her to come out here.”

Jason appears.

“The boys are asleep.”

“Good. I thought they’d never go down,” Roth rolls his eyes. Ragnar just looks at the both of them silently. They notice. It’s Jason who talks.

“Hey, don’t worry little brother. You’ll find your one…it looks like you already did.”

His brothers know. Ragnar is extremely unlucky with love, largely because he doesn’t exactly know what he’s looking for. All he does know is that there’s no compromise—she’s either perfect or she’s not.

He stares at his beer a minute.

“It was probably a bad idea to sneak in that 30 minutes.”

Both Roth and Jason start cracking up. “Closer to an hour. Mom was pissed you were late to dinner.”

“How long have ya’ll been together?”

“Uh…we’re not.”

“Wait—what?” It’s Jason this time. “You mean…you just now…today…hit it?”

He nods.

Roth whistles low… “was she expecting that?”

Ragnar shakes his head.

His brothers just look at him.

“So…let me get this right. You two aren’t dating. You invite her here on a whim. You decide to just…get it in. And…you’re upset she’s mad at you? No talking, no convo, no heads up…no…nothing. You just…pounce on her?”

Yep. That’s about right.

Jason gets up. “I’m starting to think you sabotage yourself on purpose,” he says.

.

.

Lagertha calms down in the morning and when he knocks on her door she lets him in.

“I just came to apologize,” he says with a sheepish grin. It’s cute. Ragnar’s standing before her, hands in pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, looking guilty as hell.

“Come here,” she grabs his shirt and kisses him. He backs her up to the bed and lays her down, undressing her, and himself.

Everyone in the house is already awake.

Roth and Jason are walking down the hall when they hear the first squeak. Followed by another. And another…Ragnar and Lagertha are quiet…but the bed they’re on isn’t.

 She does stay the week on the farm though. And she actually has a good time. It’s fun to pick the cherries from the orchard, and Nancy teaches her how to make pies and cobblers, and the pot pie that she loved.

Ragnar comes into the kitchen as they work, and she tosses a few cherries to him. He catches them in the air with his mouth, making Lagertha and Nancy laugh, before he comes to wrap Lagertha in his arms and kiss her.

And he thoroughly enjoys her pot pie and cobbler efforts.

 They go to a nearby state park where they explore ancient caverns and wander the nature paths. It’s gorgeous here… complete with an impromptu river ride.  

In the evening they bumble around on ATV’s and she pushes them as fast and as far as they’ll go—they chase each other around the property laughing, and playing around. And finally, when they’re exhausted, they come back inside and slip off into Ragnar’s old bedroom. A twin bed.

She laughs. “How are we supposed to make this work?”

There’s always a solution, and she rides Ragnar until he’s fisting the sheets and finally, it’s his turn to get  loud and embarrass himself. Quickly, they fade off to sleep. But this time, Ragnar forgot to lock the door. And the sheet only covers them from the bottom down. She’s curled against his chest, her legs tangled in his.

A bright light bursts in front Ragnar’s eyes and when he opens them, he sees his nephews holding an iphone.

“Give me that,” he grabs for it, but the kids snatch it away and take off at a run. Ragnar untangles himself from Lagertha and scrambles to his feet to throw on a pair of shorts and chase his nephews around the house. They run into a room and lock the door.

“Raki’s got a girlfriend! Raki’s got a girlfriend!”

“What’s going on?” The commotion wakes Lagertha who rolls over and finds her clothes. She appears in the hallway dressed and leans against a wall, a slight smile on her lips. It’s amusing really, to watch a grown man chase down two little boys. Ragnar’s presently trying to negotiate with them from the wrong side of a closed door.

“You’re not going to win. Might as well give up,” she says.

From the living room, her phone starts to buzz. She goes to it and looks…and sees her twitter feed blowing up. A picture, of her and Ragnar side-by-side…naked from the waist-up. The caption: “Raki’s got a girlfriend.”

It looks like exactly what it is. Damage control and quick thinking. She retweets the photo with her own caption: “Shreya always comes out on top.” #bossbitches #puthimtosleep #forthefans #shreyval4evr

Deflect. Play it off.

Those little shits.

It’s her last night on the farm, and he’s got it all set up. Ragnar spent about an hour getting it ready for her, and when he comes back in the house, Lagertha looks up from the couch where she’s been reading.

“Where’ve you been?”

“You’ll see. Come on.” She goes with him outside, hopping onto the waiting ATV. Ragnar climbs on in the front and she wraps her arms around his waist as they take off, heading toward the cherry orchard. They come to a stop and she can’t help but smile at what she sees.

He’s made a little picnic spread for them—two chairs and a table covered with a checkered table cloth, candles, wine and a basket.

Dammit, Ragnar.

Lagertha’s not dumb. She knows what he’s doing and reluctantly, she admits, at least to herself, that it might be working.

He comes around and helps her off the ATV and they go to the table, where he pulls out her chair for her and settles across in the other one.

Ragnar pops the cork on the bottle and pours her a cup and she drinks it, smiling into the glass.

It’s dusk, and the sun is starting to go down. There’s a light breeze, and it’s still warm.

“Did you have fun this week?” He asks as he goes to the basket and starts unloading paper plates, napkins, utensils and finally…the food. Nancy’s friend chicken and potato salad, macaroni and cheese and of course…two little pot pies.

“I did. Thank you.” She’s sincere when she says it. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you did too.

They eat in companionable silence, and when they’re done, Ragnar goes back to the ATV and grabs the bag he’d put there before they left the house.

It takes him about five minutes to set up the tent, and he goes in, laying down the blankets before coming back out.

“I figured we should at least give them one night of peace,” he says, walking back in with Lagertha.

She laughs quietly as he starts to undress, and she does too, and this time, when he does enter her…it’s the most fulfilling sexual experience either of them have ever had.

.

**Season 2**

“So…ya’ll are…doing what exactly?” Siggy asks as they get comfortable in the conference room. It’s read-through time.

“It was just a fling. Nothing serious,” Lagertha says, “Ragnar just so happens to have two bad ass nephews.”

“So you met the family?”

“Kind of. He tricked me into coming to Iowa.  Didn’t think about where I’d stay and we ended up at his farm.”

Siggy laughs. “Ragnar strikes again.” The devil walks through the door and drops into a chair.

“Hey ladies.”

“No shit this season, I’m watching you,” Siggy warns. Ragnar puts his hands in the air. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Lagertha looks down. “You’re toes are crossed!”

They all get a laugh out of it, and they’re still laughing when the rest of the cast walk in.

.

.

He’s found his target again. Lagertha. But he’s not pranking her. He’s trying to be serious. He’s asked her to dinner. He’s asked her to lunch. Brunch? Breakfast? Movies, waterparks, out to the clubs, the bars…the library, stage plays…

But she’s not giving him an inch. Even when he comes and presses against her, letting her feel his intentions.

“My cabin or your apartment? Let’s go for round two.”

“Absolutely not.” She detangles herself from his embrace and walks off leaving him confused. What is the problem? He’s trying to be good. On his best behavior really, but she’s rebuffed him every single time.

In a minute he’s going to resort to pulling her hair like a kid with a grade-school crush.

It’s time for the panel again and this time, Ragnar has decided to make Bjorn the target. He sneaks on stage and swaps out the water bottles laid out for the panel—one full of water, the other vodka.

They come out and take their seats. He watches as Bjorn opens the bottle and promptly spits it out. He grins. “You fucker,” Bjorn says, but he’s laughing. Ragnar reaches for the bottle and sets it down beside him.

 Lagertha just shakes her head.

They take audience questions and at about the third one, he feels like his brain is dying slowly. So he reaches down and takes a sip.

And then another. And then he just puts the bottle on the table and drinks from it instead. The result…he’s drunk.

 And when another question comes, about whether Valdemar and Shreya will get back together, he makes a not-so-subtle pass at Lagertha. There are snickers. But the worst fail comes with another question.

“Hey Ragnar? What’s your favorite food?” It comes from the moderator and there have been too many shots of vodka. At least, that’s what he blames it on later.

 “Lagertha.”

The audience roars. The guys are cracking up. And she just glares at him.

.

.

“You know I want you.”

They’re in between scenes. It’s probably not the most appropriate time to have this conversation, but he wants to know.

“People always want what they can’t have.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Because you aren’t serious.” She says. “You don’t take anything seriously.”

“I can be serious.”

“Ragnar,” she turns to look at him, her head cocked to the side. “You weren’t even serious when you invited me to Iowa. You did that by accident. Come on.”

She walks away, deflating his ego a bit.

It wasn’t an accident.

.

.

“Can I come over?”

They’re on opposite sides of the U.S. He’s in Los Angeles, she’s in New York. They’re taking a break before starting season 3.

“You’re still a mess.” Lagertha chuckles on the other end of the phone.

“I miss you.”

“No, you don’t. You miss fucking with me.”

“I’d love to, if you’d let me.”

Ugh. They do this every single time. She gets quiet.

“Ragnar, I’d rather stay just friends.”

Friend-zoned.

He covers the phone and exhales so she can’t hear the frustration in it.

“Why just friends?”

“Because I don’t want to ruin it. I’m not willing to risk what we’ve got already. I like where we are now.”

It’s the most honest she’s ever been and he works to process it deciding on a different approach. “You already _know_ it’s good. Why would it end badly?”

“Ragnar, there’s more to a relationship than sex.” Deadpan. She can’t see him roll his eyes.

“Lagertha, I’m not an idiot despite what you think. But you won’t let me do or _be_ anything else.” Truthfulness.

Her breathing fills his ears.

Lagertha laughs ruefully. “I don’t think you’re ready for anything beyond sex. You haven’t shown it. And you haven’t proved it. Even now. Look at how this conversation started. If you think sex alone is enough to get me and keep me, then you’re going to be disappointed, and like I said. I don’t want to disappoint you. We’re better off as friends.”

It gets quiet. He’s got nothing to come back with at the moment.

“So…that means I can’t come over?”

“Goodnight, Ragnar.”

.

.

 “Has anyone seen Ragnar? He’s late,” Ecbert says. It’s not her scene, but she goes looking for her him anyway. Knowing Ragnar, he’s probably fallen asleep in some boat or in one of the set houses. She checks the houses first.

No Ragnar.

And he’s not in the boats either. She calls his phone…no answer. Maybe he’s in his dressing room.

 So she goes. As she approaches the door she hears muffled sounds on the other side…what the—

Lagertha opens the door.

And sees Ragnar leaning back on his couch, a beer in one hand, a girl on her knees in front of him. Old habits die hard, apparently.

She leans in the doorway just watching, waiting to see exactly how long it will take them to realize that they’ve got company. She counts.

1…2…3…4…

Ragnar’s head is back, his eyes are closed, the free hand on the back of girl’s head as she bobs on his dick.

5…6…7…8…9…10…

11…12…13…14…15…

_Oh, come on…_

_16…17…18…19…20…_

 “Hello!”

The girl scrambles up and back grabbing her clothes and running out the door. Ragnar stands back, a bit dazed. Lagertha looks at him and tries not to laugh.

“I told you, you weren’t serious. Your cock is out,” she says, a finger gesturing toward the area.

 She turns to leave.

“By the way, Ecbert’s looking for you. You’re late.”

Fuck.

 Well, he’s blown it and he didn’t even get the chance to blow it. Ragnar exhales and fixes himself, running a hand down his face.

 He’s pretty sure Lagertha won’t sleep with him now. He’d been trying to wait. To be good…but he can only wait so long.

Friend-zone is just a nice way of saying hell no.

.

.

They haven’t spoken in weeks.

“What did you do?” Bjorn asks.

He shrugs.

Lagertha’s found a new friend. Some banker type, and he comes to the set nearly every day.  She always leaves with him.

One day he asks about it. “Whose you’re beard?”

“He’s not a beard. He’s my boyfriend. His name is Tim.”

Tim. Ragnar crosses his arms, looking down at her.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re not my daddy. And you are not my man.”

I just have one question and I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

She rolls her eyes. “What is it?”

He leans down to whisper in her ear.

“Does he make you feel like I do?”

She shoots him a dirty look and stomps off. He smirks, knowing if the answer was yes she would have said something.

Tim is a total beard.

.

.

He’s gone from being nonchalant about the whole thing, to sulking about it.

They get the same question each year. But this time, Ragnar manages to stay sober throughout the panel. He’s tried the serious approach. The fun approach. The meet-the-family approach and it’s not worked. He got to bang Lagertha senseless for a week, the best week of his life. And he wants its back. Badly. Because now there’s just unresolved sexual tension between them and it needs a resolution. He knows it. She does too. But Lagertha’s just too damn stubborn. And it’s starting to make him angry. Not that she won’t give in, but that she won’t even acknowledge her own feelings.

“Ragnar will Valdemar and Shreya get back together?”

“Relax, she’s got the clap.” It’s sulky.

There’s laughter. But she’s not going to let him get away with it.

“He’s got a little penis.” One pinky is held up.

“Just enough for a mouthful. You should try it, it’s delicious.” Foul.

“No thanks, you haven’t had your shots.”  Rude.

Siggy’s got her head in her hands.

Rollo drops the mic and pulls back from the table looking away.

The poor moderator is speechless, and Bjorn is cracking up. Ecbert is staring up at the ceiling. And the audience is roaring.

“What the fuck Ragnar?”

They’re back stage, locked in a utility closet arguing. The rest of the cast dispersed quickly, letting the two of them fight it out.

“You started it.”

“HOW did I start it? Because I won’t sleep with you? So you think THAT was the best approach?” She’s shaking her head. “That was dirty.”

“Oh come on, it was funny. They loved it.”

“THEY don’t know you. I do—and it’s shit like that which lets me know you aren’t ready for anything beyond what you already got.”

 She tries to exit the closet but he grabs her arm and pulls her close before backing her into the wall. They kiss each other hard, one of his hands in her hair, one of hers behind his head. She undoes his pants and pulls him out, stroking him in her hand. He lifts one leg and it wraps around his waist slipping his hand between her legs, two fingers inside her.

She moans. He groans.

They get each other off.

The area around them is surrounded with various tables and interviews. No one notices.

.

.

There’s no going to the farm this year during the break.  He’s got a movie to film. Lagertha’s got a new beard. Some guy named Max. He’s seen a few photos of them together.

At least he’s got a new distraction.

He flirts with his pretty co-star. It’s shameless. He stares at her boobs, she laughs at him. They’ve got “chemistry”--at least, according to the reviewers. Apparently, he’s got chemistry with pretty much anyone and everything. He had chemistry with the damn goats for goodness sakes.

A few set photos of them emerge, but he doesn’t pay it any attention figuring it’s good for the movie.

It makes shooting go easier. But he’s the odd man out here. Most of the cast knows each other. So he spends a lot of time alone, by choice, really. And it gives him a lot of time to think. Yeah. His co-star, Lilly,  is fine as hell. But he’s not really thinking about her in his off time.

.

.

**Season 3.**

“Lagertha!”

She runs and jumps on Siggy, wrapping her in a big hug. Torvi comes over laughing.

“You guys are a mess.”

“I am soo glad to be back. I was going out of my mind,” Lagertha says. Siggy eyes her. “I thought you had your hands full. Where’s Max?”

“Had to drop him.”

Torvi studies Lagertha too. “Funny how he disappears once you come back here.”

“Don’t even.”

“Just saying. It’s an observation. Bar crawl tonight? The guys want to go.”

Lagertha laughs. “Of course they do. They’re all alcoholics. I’m in.”

As they walk to the diner Siggy drops a not-so-casual comment.

“Ragnar’s back. He got in earlier today.”

.

.

The cast has managed to take over the bar. It’s a big family reunion, hugs and laughs all around. Ragnar walks in and gets pulled into a bear grip by Bjorn, Rollo and Floki.

“Hey it’s the movie star!” Rollo announces. It gets a cheer from his cast mates. His friends. These guys are family. Ragnar shakes his head, downplaying it. He’s never been comfortable as the center of attention.

“We’ll see how the film does at the box office. That’s the real test,” he tells them as they settle down at a table. He’s talking to the guys, but his eyes are searching the bar.

They look at each other, then at Ragnar.

“She’s with Siggy, Helga and Torvi,” Bjorn tells him.

“Who?”

Floki rolls his eyes and laughs.

“The person you’re looking for.”

Sure enough his eyes drift across the bar and he sees her near the back holding court with the ladies.

“I wasn’t—“

Rollo stops him. “You lie like shit.”

.

.

It’s getting late and slowly people are starting to filter out, leaving the diehards. A pool table comes open and she goes to it, claiming it as hers. It’s been a while. Athelstan wanders over. “Can I play too?” She nods and he grabs a cue as well and they start to play.

Athelstan’s pretty good. But not good enough.

Lagertha bends over, aligning the white ball with the eight ball to bring the game to the end. She’s analyzing the angle, searching, when something hard come up against her ass. And she knows exactly what and who it’s attached to. This time though, he doesn’t win.

She fires…the ball goes in.

“Good game,” Athelstan tells her as she raises herself and, still ignoring Ragnar comes to hug Athelstan. “We should be partners,” he says. “Yeah. We should get a betting pool going. We’d rob them blind.” He laughs and heads off, leaving her alone with Ragnar.

The girls left an hour ago.

She turns to face him.

“Did you miss me?” He’s wearing a half-grin and squinting at her. She’s knows immediately he’s drunk—she can smell the beer and the liquor on his breath. No wonder he’s so damned close.

“Nope.”

The grin fades and he leans in, his breath and his beard ticking her neck. “You’re lying. Let’s fuck. The bathroom’s over there.” It’s part joke, part serious.

She raises her eyebrow, taking a closer appraisal.

“Did you grow or something?” Ragnar looks different. His head is shaved and he’s…broader…fuller. More muscle. Her hands run down his arms, across his chest, down his stomach. All hard. Solid.

He smirks at her, enjoying her shameless feel-copping.

“Yeah. I had to gain 20 pounds.”

It looks good on him. She’s gives it a bit of consideration…

“No fucking. But you can take me home though.”

Her pajamas are a disappointment. And she puts him to bed on the couch. It’s early in the morning when he finally wakes up, trying to figure out where he is.

Lagertha’s apartment.

Ragnar yawns and stumbles to her bedroom door, trying it. Unlocked. He goes in and sees her sleeping on the bed. So he climbs in beside her, pulling her close. She snuggles against him, her back to his chest, but doesn’t wake up. And he goes back to sleep.

.

.

He’s bounding back-and-forth between two panels. Two different projects. Dozens of interviews.

“What’s it like working together?”

“I love working with Lagertha—I mean Lilly.”

Shit. Lilly looks at him.

“Ragnar’s great to work with. It was a fun experience.” She smiles and he’s grateful for the save. Lilly’s really nice. Those boobs though…

He can’t stop staring at them during the panel. Every answer he delivers it’s with his head down, because she’s got on this low cut top and both are pressed up and high and damn if he doesn’t want to stick his face between them and pull a motorboat.

“Ragnar, are you looking at her boobs?”

The moderator calls him out on it and he grins.

“She’s hot. I can’t help it. I appreciate beautiful women.”

He doesn’t see Lagertha hanging out in the back. And when he leaves, it’s time for his other panel. He’s the last to get to the stage, expecting to sit next to her. But when he gets there, the only seat left is the furthest one away.

“Ragnar, Lagertha, where does the relationship between your characters go this season?”

“She castrates him,” Lagertha says. The audience gasps. The director jumps in.

“No, it’s just a joke! They’re not breaking up! He says.

Ragnar looks down the table at her. She looks back at him, shaking her head.

What the hell did he do? He asks when they get done.

“You don’t want to be my work wife, anymore?”

“Please. Lilly McNabb’s boobs not enough for you?”

Whoops.

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t. But you keep making an ass of yourself. I don’t do assholes.” She turns to walk away, leaving him alone.

That evening’s yacht party provides another chance.

“Let’s talk.”

Lagertha looks at him and she can tell he’s serious, so they walk off together and go down a level where there’s an empty room that doubles as an observation deck. Ragnar closes the door and she settles on the couch.

“How’s Max?” He asks, not quite casually.

“We broke up.”

He laughs. “I’m not surprised. Same way you broke up with Tim?”

She looks at him, lips pursed. “Why are you so concerned about who I sleep with?”

“I’m not. Just trying to figure out your M.O.”

“Right.”

Lagertha’s wary as Ragnar comes to sit next to her.

“Can I at least have a taste?”

He gets a finger wagging in his face. So he catches it with his teeth, drawing it in his mouth and sucks on it, watching her face the whole time. Lagertha’s eyes close and she shudders involuntarily. He releases the finger and while she’s distracted, takes the time to lean in and kiss her.

It’s what he’s been wanting to do. Partly, anyway. She kisses him back and he deepens it, slipping his tongue inside her mouth. They stay there, like that, just kissing, and she’s thinking about Iowa and what else he did with that tongue…a moan escapes and Ragnar moves his lips to her neck, biting gently, sucking and licking…she gasps when he brings his tongue behind her ear and his hands up her thigh, lifting her dress.

Why had she chosen a dress? Because he’s dropped to his knees and he’s opening her legs, putting his face in between them and inhaling.

She smells like a woman, and it’s been too long since he’s been down here. He goes in and at the feel of his tongue on his clit she arches back, but he grabs her hips and pulls her back down.

Oh God…

This time, there are no pillows around, and she bites her bottom lip hard to keep from screaming. He can tell by the way she’s gripping his shoulders and trying to push against him that she’s resistant to it, but he’s determined to make her break.

“I’m going to fuck you…” he breathes against her thighs… “be it with my cock or my mouth or my hands. I _am_ going to fuck you, Lagertha, and you _are_ going to come again for me.”

Because he’s tired of this shit. And he’s determined.  So he uses his mouth, and he slips two fingers in at the same time to do her…until she’s squirming against his face…then grinding against his face…and when he does get inside, it’s game over. He’s keeping the pace the pace he set with his hands and his tongue with his hips. And she’s riding on his lap.

Torvi and Bjorn walk down the stairs to the second floor, heading for the observation deck. But the doors are closed, and locked. They turn to go elsewhere when the sounds drift through the doors.

They look at each other.

“Is that?...”

She can’t hold it in any longer. He’s making her lose it. And her lip hurts…it slips out.

“Ragnar!” He responds by giving her more. And she gets a little louder…and louder…

And louder. He groans her name. ” _Lagertha….”_

“Uh…let’s go somewhere else,” Bjorn says, glancing back at the door knowing damn well who is in there. Too bad they can’t unhear what they just heard.

When she can’t take it anymore and she finally lets go, coming hard with a long scream…the sound bounces off the walls and rings in Ragnar’s ears. He’s sucking on her breasts until she’s shaking…still going until she lets out a choked sob and jerks herself out of his grip and it’s only then he knows he’s done what he came to do.

It takes a while to recover…but she does. And when she finally comes down, Ragnar’s looking at her with a smug smile on his face.

She slaps him, and it falls off.

“I cannot stand your ass.”

.

.

They’re sitting at Torvi’s house in a circle on the floor, rehearsing and drinking wine, and having a sleepover.

“So Torvi, you and Bjorn?” Helga asks.  Torvi smiles. “Yeah. We’re just taking it slow.”

“A serious thing or a casual thing?” Siggy asks.

“A day at a time sort of thing,” she says. They all nod. That’s the best way to go. No pressure. No investment. Just see where it goes. If it works, it works, if it doesn’t, no harm, no foul.

Lagertha nods. “I’m happy for you. Bjorn’s a great guy.”

“What about you and Ragnar?” Torvi asks her.

“What do you mean?”

“Come off it,” Helga says. “There’s been something between you and Ragnar for the past three years. What are you two doing? Is it just a sex thing? He _looks_ like he can fuck.” Siggy.

“No. Not a sex thing. Not a thing-thing either. Ragnar’s a man-child.”

Torvi looks at her, remembering the yacht. “That’s a lie. It’s at _least_ a sex thing. You two were in that room on the yacht.”

“What?” Lagertha looks at her.

Siggy and Helga look at Lagertha, then at each other. “Ya’ll were fucking on the yacht?”

“We were NOT fucking!”

“Oh yes, you were.” Torvi says with a wide grin.

God dammit.

“We were talking.”

“If that’s what you’re calling it.”

“Ooh..details! Helga’s wide eyes are on her and they get wider at her lack of response. “Come on, Lagertha…did he give you head?”

She cuts her eyes at Helga.  Siggy’s cracking up. “I knew it! That tongue is too damn long! Does he have the ‘D’ to match?”

Torvi smirks. “Hmm…first Iowa, then the yacht. I’m guessing it was good enough for seconds.”

“Shut up Torvi.”

.

.

Lagertha takes another beard and this time Ragnar takes a dress and everyone is confused because there’s so much tension between the two of them it makes anyone around really uncomfortable. No one knows whether they’re going to fight or fuck each other at any moment.

The sex scenes they have to film together are so hot it makes the poor crew get wet and hard. The ratings agency keeps threatening to bump the show to “MA”. The fight scenes they share together are exceptionally violent, and both have the bruises and scratches to show for their clashes.

No one is safe from Ragnar’s “pranks” but he’s taking it out on Lagertha even harder.

There are goats in her dressing room, and a baby chick in her car.

She nearly steps in shit again but it’s Rollo who comes in for the save, and she sees Ragnar leaning against one of the houses laughing.

She pushes him off a boat in the middle of a lake and, during a fight scene, he manages to dodge because he sees she’s aiming her shield for his head and he’s not about to get another concussion.

One day, it’s pouring rain.

Everyone is soaked, and they finally get a break to go wardrobe to dry off and take off their sopping costumes. Lagertha’s bent over trying to peel away the pants when there’s a snapping sound and the next thing she feels is a white-hot flash of pain across her ass so intense it brings tears to her eyes and makes her flush with rage.

She whirls around to see Ragnar laughing, a wet towel in his hand and she loses it, because she’s sick of him and that really hurt and it wasn’t fucking funny and she is NOT in the mood.

“You bastard! I hate you!” Lagertha swings, and Ragnar holds his arms up to block.

Everyone starts laughing because it’s pretty damned funny to see Lagertha in only a shirt wailing on Ragnar but it quickly becomes not funny when it’s clear those punches are real, and he’s starting to come out on the losing end.

Time to go. The rest of the cast beat feet.

“Ow! Lagertha stop! I give! I give!” He puts his hands up in a peace offering and she stops hitting him, her chest rising and falling heavily.

He looks at her and sees the sheer fury in her face and knows immediately he’s crossed a line.

“I’m sorry. I was just playing.”

“That’s your entire fucking problem Ragnar! You’re always playing!! I’m tired of fucking playing! Go to hell!”

She storms off.

He backs off after that. He stands down for the rest of filming.

She doesn’t answer his texts during the break.

She doesn’t take his calls either.

She’s still dating her boyfriend, and he’s coming to realize this latest one might not be a beard. He ditched the dress, er—Lilly, a while ago.

.

.

**Season 4**

They made the decision that morning and someone is going to have to tell the cast. Ragnar decides to tell Lagertha first.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“I meant…I’m leaving the show.”

She’s sitting on her couch and puts down her wine to look at him.

“You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

He nods, and she gets quiet, her eyes down cast. One finger trails across the rim of the glass.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

What had he expected coming here? Something more than this, for sure.

There’s a knock at her door and she gets up to open it.

“Hey babe.” It’s her boyfriend. She brings him to the leaving room and Ragnar stands.

“Ragnar, this is Kalf. Kalf, this is my colleague, Ragnar.”

They just nod at each other and Ragnar looks at Lagertha. “I can see myself out.”

.

.

Leaving. Permanence.  He’s leaving. She weighs it. She’s weighing it as she fucks Kalf. Thinking about it still the next morning when he’s back inside her.

Crap.

She’s been trying to focus on her boyfriend. Focus on the real relationship and not the fake one. But as the day draws closer, she’s thinking about it more and more, trying to decide exactly how she feels about it.

The answer comes a few nights later when she’s in the middle of an orgasm with Kalf and calls out Ragnar’s name.

There’s no way to cover that one up.

.

.

Ecbert delivers the news to the rest of the class the first day on set.  Valdemar is going to die this season. Ragnar’s leaving.

Siggy gives him a hug, Rollo, Bjorn and Athelstan give him a pat on the back. He looks at Lagertha, but she’s disappeared. And he doesn’t see her again until they start filming their shared scenes. They work late in the day. And it’s nearing midnight by the time they stop.

She hangs back as everyone slowly leaves, and then knocks on Ragnar’s dressing room door.

 He opens it and sees her. There’s a strange look on her face, something he doesn’t quite understand…Maybe she’s not mad after all? 

Maybe it’s worth another shot. “Come home with me?”

 They go back to his cabin on the lake. The door closes and she comes close, tugging on his beard and pulling him down into a kiss. They undress each other and when he lays her on the bed taking his time to go down on her, while stroking himself.

He could literally die between her legs and be content with it, it’s so pretty and wet and perfect and pink…soft little hairs neatly trimmed…he’s tasted it already. He knows it well. Now he wants to feel it again. He comes back up resting between her legs.

“Can I?” He doesn’t want to press his luck. He’s been denied twice already. She hasn’t spoken a word to him all day, leaving him to guess, and so far, he’s guessed correctly.

She’s still quiet, offering neither a yes or no, and he groans, moving to get up but she wraps her arms around him pulling him back down.

“C’mere. Follow me.”

He did pass grade school and he does know how to listen and follow instructions so he does as she says and when he feels her clit on it, she gives him a completely new sensation. No, he’s not in it but he is on it, and it feels just as good.

“Turn around.”

She does as he says and he lays on her back, moving into position to restart what he’s been doing for the past 20 minutes. This time, she clenches her thighs around him as he slides in and groans aloud. She’s wet and the gap between her thighs is filled with his cock and it’s slowly bringing him to the edge of disaster.

They miss the morning call.

And the afternoon call.

 “Come with me?”  He asks when they finish filming. She’s been quiet all day again. This time, when she looks at him, her face is impassive. She shakes her head no and he goes home alone.

His cabin still smells like their sex, and it fucks with him the rest of the night. He wants her…always. And yet while she gives him a bite here and there…she still won’t give him the full cookie. And she knows how hungry he is.

.

.

They finish the season. They film the last episode—his death. Shreya cries hard for her husband. It’s good this is written in—because it disguises exactly how upset Lagertha is with this whole leaving thing.

.

.

He’s a gentleman this year for panel. No drinking, and he even pulls out her chair for her. The women in the crowd ooh and aww…

He’s behaving.

“Don’t let that fool you,” she says into the mic.

Until he isn’t.

“That’s what one night of passion gets you,” he retorts. The audience laughs. She cuts her eyes at him.

Later, they all go back to the hotel. It’s nearly 2 a.m. when there’s a knock at her door, and then a key slides in.

He enters.

“You’re incorrigible,” she says as he kicks off his shoes, and unbuttons his shirt. He takes it off, then comes to stand in front of her.

“But you like it. Don’t lie.”

She’s dressed in a man’s t-shirt. Some man not him and he doesn’t like it, so it comes off her body, and he goes in to kiss her. Her face, her neck, her shoulders. He goes down until he’s on his knees, face between her legs.

 “No.” She stops it before he can get started.

“What?” Ragnar just stares at her, disbelieving.

“I said, _no_.”

“Why no? _Why_ do you keep telling me no?” They’ve been doing this for way too long. Going around in circles for years.

“Because you’re still not serious. And you’re still not ready.”

He looks down at himself. He’s never been more ready and more serious in his life.  Fuck it. Stepping away from Lagertha he goes to the bed, takes off his shirt and his pants and lays down, going to sleep.

Lagertha takes off the rest of her clothes and comes to lay next to him.

“I’m sorry, Ragnar. Really, I am.”

He snorts and just grabs her, pulling her close. If this is what he has to settle for, he will. But he won’t keep settling forever. Because Lagertha is still fighting what he’s already come to accept. That they’re meant to be together. He knew it in Iowa. She did too. But she’s been fighting it.

Now it’s just a matter of time.

“My flight’s at 10, if you change your mind between now and then.”

.

.

**Season 5**

It’s just not the same without him.

They all still have fun. The jokes and the pranks are still there. But they all feel it.

And tonight, she’s really feeling it—her whole body is sore and covered in bruises from the day’s battle shoot. She’s just getting out the shower when her phone rings. She answers, not really seeing the number.

“Hey Lags.”

Ragnar. Hearing his voice makes her smile.

“How’s it going?”

“I just got thrown off a damned horse.”

She laughs. Ragnar is an experienced rider. To get tossed must make him feel some kind of way.

“How’s filming going?” The new project. The reason why he left.

“Not too bad. New people. It’s pretty much the same. Horses. Swords. Shields. How is everyone?”

“I think they miss you.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

He laughs. “Of course you don’t.” But it’s not a happy laugh. It’s kind of bitter.

“Don’t start, Ragnar.”

“I won’t. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up. She does too.

.

.

There hasn’t been a hangover this bad since…shit, he can’t really remember when. What the hell did he do last night? What has he done the last three days?

Ragnar rolls over, touching something soft. He cracks an eye open. A woman.  She moans, but doesn’t really move so he tries the other side and touches something else soft.

Another woman.

His head starts to hurt worse. There’s only one way out the bed, so he crawls to the bottom edge to get up, stumbling his way to the bathroom to take a piss.

The mirror catches his attention and he leans over toward it, getting the first look at himself. He looks drunk as shit. Dark circles under his eyes, the whites blood-shot.

When he’s finally done he goes back to the room and stops, taking survey of the damage—several empty liquor bottles and clothes strewn everywhere.

 It’s not his first threesome…but it’s the first where he can’t figure out _who_ is in his bed.

Crap…Did he…?

He checks the garbage can and exhales at the used condoms inside.  

At least he didn’t get burned this time. Someone had to be looking out for him. Cause he wasn’t.

.

.

He’s definitely earning a paycheck this time around. The TV show had been fun. This movie though, this is work. He hates work. Rollo, Floki and Bjorn have all called him. So have Siggy, Torvi and Helga. But the one person he hasn’t talked to in months is Lagertha.

The cast is filming, he knows the schedule. And he also knows, by way of, that she’s been hanging out with their friends as usual. He’s talking to Rollo when the question comes out.

“Does she ask about me?”

Rollo hesitates.

“No.”

Fuck. Really Lagertha?

The next three days of filming are particularly intense and he falls into bed exhausted, needing a moment to clear his head. Ragnar rolls over in his bed to reach for his phone. The number is on speed dial and he waits. She picks up on the third ring.

 “Lags.”

“How’s it going?”

He smiles at the sound of her voice, the inflection of the words. He can imagine the way her mouth moves as it makes the syllables. That same mouth that damn near sent him into convulsions.

 “I’ve been better.” It’s new. Honest. He’s trying something different. Maybe it’s in the way he says it. But she picks up on it.

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound like you.”

He hasn’t been him since the accidental threesome. And…he’s not really wanting to repeat that. Probably best to keep this one to himself.

“I miss you.” The truth. The reason he ended up drunk and in bed with two women who…he still doesn’t know their names.

She’s quiet.

“Still not missing me?”

“No.”

He hangs up. That was a fucking mistake. He doesn’t even know why he tried. Wait—yes he does.

Ragnar shakes his head.  He calls Siggy.

“Hey Siggy.”

“Hey stranger. You miss us yet?”

“I need to talk to you. And I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay…” he hears the skepticism in her voice.

“Siggy, I need to know. Does she miss me?”

Siggy knows who he’s talking about. He hears her hesitate. She gets quiet a long minute before speaking.

“Yeah. She does.”

He’s got five months left on this project.

He stops drinking.

He abstains from sex.

He knows exactly what he’s going to do. Call it his silent ruminations. Meditations. He’s preparing. Cleansing his heart. His mind. His abused body. He’s got to be ready for this. Ready for her. Because he knew a long time ago that Lagertha was meant to be his. And this time, he’s not leaving without a yes.

.

.

The man beside her is talking, but Lagertha tuned out a while ago. Still, she smiles and nods and pretends to be engaged when really, all she wants is a bottle of red wine and a dark room to curl up in.

She’s tried to shop it away.

She’s tried to drink it away.

She’s tried to sleep it away.

And sexing it away definitely hasn’t worked.

The panel is mandatory. But she’s considering taking the fine and skipping it this year. There’s something missing and she knows what it is. Still, she’s a damn good actress. And she plays it off as if she’s having the best time ever.

By the time she’s finished running the gauntlet of interviews, autographs, special events and parties, she’s exhausted and can’t wait to get back to her hotel room.

But when she walks in she stops, seeing him.

“How’d you get in here? I thought you were filming?”

Ragnar’s sitting in her desk chair, feet propped up. 

“I took a few days off,” he says standing to come over to her. “And Siggy let me in.”

Siggy. Of course, Siggy. No wonder she’d asked for Lagertha’s spare key.

“Well, what do you want, now? Here to prank me? It’s not going to work and I’m not in the mood.”

She moves away from him and kicks of her shoes, settling down on the edge of the bed. Her feet hurt.

Ragnar follows her and kneels down, taking her feet in his hand and starting to rub them. She snatches her toes away and he pulls them back.

“I’m not going to mess with you, I promise. That’s not why he came here tonight. I have a question.”

He’s still massaging her feet, and Lagertha lowers herself down to the bed, eyes closed. What he’s doing feels good.

“Hmmm?”

“So tell me the truth. Did you miss me?”

She opens her eyes. “Are you still on that?”

“Yes.”

A sigh.

“Yes, okay? Satisfied?”

He stops massaging her feet and stands up before lowering his body to hers.

“I haven’t been fully satisfied since our last night in Iowa. You keep denying me.” He’s looking at her intently, those eyes blazing and she sits up a bit to look at him.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“It’s why I tricked you into coming to my parents’ house.”

.

.

The first time they were together they made love for a week at his parents’ house.

The second time, they had sex on a yacht.

Tonight…they fuck.

Until the neighbors bang on the wall.

 Until the bed has no sheets.

Until the mattress slides to the floor.

Until she’s screamed herself hoarse and his throat is dry from yelling.

Until they absolutely just can’t anymore and the room stinks of sweat and sex.

Until she’s sore. And his arms hurt.

Until they drift off to sleep, wrapped up in each other.

.

.

“We’ve been here before.” Ragnar’s on his back on the floor, Lagertha’s head on his chest, one of her legs strewn over his. Sometime during the night one of them found a sheet and some pillows. He looks at her.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes.” She’s fingering his chest hair, her leg moving against his. It feels good.

“Let’s be together.” He pulls her tighter against him, lowering his head so he can smell her. She smells like him now. She smells like them. He feels himself twitch.

“No. You’re not serious.”

“I am very serious.”

She raises her face to look at him and they lock eyes. Suddenly, Lagertha feels…nervous. An intense urge to just run.

“I have to go.” She starts to pull away but Ragnar sits up, wrapping his arms around her and holding her there.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. I have to go get a Plan B.”

“Not a good enough reason, and you’ve got 36 hours.”

“It’s more effective if you take it sooner.” Lagertha looks at him.

“You weren’t in a rush in Iowa.”

She sighs. “I was on birth control in Iowa. I’m not anymore. You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

They sit quietly. He’s determined and she’s stubborn. It’s been this way now for years. The thing that keeps them ever going in circles.

“I haven’t had sex in five months,” he says quietly. Lagertha looks at him in surprise. She knows Ragnar’s ways. “I haven’t had a drink, I haven’t smoked.” His looking at her in earnest. And suddenly, she’s uncomfortable. And hot. 

“I have to pee.” He lets her go and watches as her retreat to the bathroom. The shower comes on.

He waits a minute before getting up to find his jeans, pulling something out of the pocket before going into the bathroom and pulling back the curtain to climb into the shower behind her. She will not get away this time.

 “What are you doing?” She asks turning to face him. They’re both naked.

“Proving to you I’m serious.”

He kisses her and puts a ring on her left hand, lacing their fingers together.  

“What do you say?”

He’s waiting on her answer. Willing her to say something.

“Are you joking again?”

He shakes his head and she looks at their embraced hands. On her free one is a ring. A plain white gold band. A placeholder. She knows exactly what he’s asking. What he wants.  The water is hot, and it beats down on both of them. He brings her close and lowers his face to hers, slipping down to her neck.

“I want to come in you again.” His tongue traces down her neck and he’s pressed against her, hard and ready to go.

 It sends a rush of heat between her legs.

“I’m not on birth control.”

“If I’m your husband, it doesn’t matter.”

He reaches down and picks her up, bracing their bodies against the shower wall.

“Yes…” she groans as he goes in.

“Yes for my cock or yes for me?” He asks trying to focus on the task at present.

“Yes to both.” Her head is back, eyes closed and she’s starting to shake as he does her. They can do this again and again and again…

And they do.

The next morning, he gives her the real ring. A large, yellow pear shaped diamond with two smaller, pear shaped white diamonds on the side.

She looks at it. “I was happy with the band.”

“I can take it back.”

She snatches her hand away. “Hell no!”

He laughs.

Forty weeks later, he’s got a new movie, a new wife, and a new baby. 

Forty weeks later she’s got a new husband, a daughter and a hit tv show.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**The Fire**

 “I can’t believe you came.”

It’s so quiet here, just the two of them, swaying slowly to music only they can hear, holding on to each other, neither wanting to let go.

“I’ve missed you.” Mouths touch in a gentle kiss, unhurried, soft. His lips move against hers, hers against his. It’s patient. Easy. Unrushed.

They dance in darkness.

She rests her head on his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily. Strong. Sure. The silence wraps them in its warm embrace and it feels so good…so good to just be still. Good to just be quiet. To just…be.

“I want you to leave him.”

A quick draw of breath, her face buried in his chest, inhaling the scent of him…familiar, comforting. She grips the fabric of his shirt tighter trying to get even closer. He squeezes her, resting his chin on her head.

Four years.

Four long, tedious, unfulfilled years.

The reason why they keep toeing the line. The reason why she’s never let them go all the way, even though they’ve wanted to, so many, many times.

The silent music continues... They sway.

“Please don’t do this.” A whisper. A wish.

He lowers his face to kiss the top of her head.

They dance.

“Just this once. And I promise I won’t do it anymore.”

Once.

So insignificant. So monumental.

“I can’t. I can’t take the risk. Kalf and I…we’re…trying.”

 _They’re trying_ …He shakes his head.  

“Try with me.”

Her eyes are wet with unshed tears, her lower lip trembles. She’s afraid. And she’s never been more lovely.

“I love you.” His confession already known, but spoken aloud weighs heavy on her heart and when he kisses her again, she feels it down to her toes…

The first tear falls. And with it, her dress. His touch is like fire, rushing through her veins, and as he comes to kiss her shoulder, it makes her whole body tingle…

She is at war with herself.

“Once. Only once. I promise.”

Once.

They sway, his mouth on her shoulders…neck…chest…

Her bra falls away.

Breasts, tongue…belly…

Fists in hair…a moan…not hers…someone else’s…so far away. His touch. His tongue, breaking down her resolve.

He can taste it. He knows it. He can feel it…

A hitched breath. A jerk. A shudder. Her legs shake. She cries out…

“Just once,” a whisper against her thigh.

_Once…_

He catches her before she falls, and takes her to the bed.

She’s naked. She hasn’t noticed he is too…she hasn’t noticed she’s on her back…she hasn’t noticed…until she feels the weight of his body in hers, his legs between hers.

“Let me ….Let me in…”

He goes for her neck again…the spot that makes her wet, and her body overrides her mind as she arches into him, her legs parting fully, giving him entry. He goes in and she gasps, wrapping her arms around his back.

He starts to move, staying with her, probing her…touching her…never breaking the contact.  Fire. It feels like fire. Like a simmer bursting into flame…

“Oh God…” she cries.

“I’m here.”

Each thrust brings new passion, each touch a new shock…Deeper…longer…

He exhales into her hair as she grips him tighter. Holding on.

A roll of the hips makes hers buck, a roll of hers makes him groan… “I love you.”

A fresh burst of pleasure from deep inside…the beginning of the end. He starts to move faster. More urgent.

“I love you.”

She trembles…and she cries…fighting the words…even as they echo through her. The bed begins to squeak.

“Please don’t--”

His breath catches…feeling it…the knot beginning to form… “I love you.”

She clings to him, he draws her face closer to his.  “Look at me.”

Her tears run freely.

 “Look. At. Me.” The knot draws tighter…her eyes open.

 “Come with me …”

She shakes her head, but her body begins to quake.

“Come with me …”

“I can’t…”

 “Then come _for_ me…”

It’s already set.

It’s already done.

His voice is low, deep in her ear…“Lagertha, I’m not pulling out. You _will_ come for me.”

The damn bursts. Her walls come down.

It’s like lightening. And she does. He bucks. She screams.

Her head thrown back in a long, deep moan, her back arched…her nipples erect…her fists gripping the sheets…

 He comes for her. In her...it makes his whole body shake. And he can’t stop...even as the tears roll down her face.

He tries to kiss them away, but they still fall.

.

.

“I’m just sick.”

“You’ve been sick for three weeks. You should go to the doctor.”

No doctor can help her with this.

Her husband is concerned as he rubs her back. She can’t take the hopeful look in his face. “We’ve been trying…do you think that maybe?”

She shakes her head.

“No. No. I’m sure. I’m just sick.”

She’s not just sick. The stick confirms it. The truth is evident.  She closes her eyes.

_I’m not pulling out. You will come for me._

_._

_._

“He didn’t do anything wrong. I _can’t_ leave him.”

“You’ll hurt him if you stay.”

She’s crying into Siggy’s arms.

“Do you know who the father is?”

She can only nod mutely.

“Who?”

“Ragnar.” It comes out a whisper, laced with a sob.

Siggy looks at her, trying to place the when and the where. Ragnar has been gone a year.

“When?”

“After the last panel. That night…he came…for me.”

.

.

“Why are you doing this Lagertha? Talk to me!”

Kalf is upset. He has every right to be. To him, it’s unexpected. Unanticipated. The nastiest of surprises. And his wife won’t respond to his questions.

“Please tell me why, at least. I thought you were happy.”

Happy.

They got married right before she started filming. Right before she met _him_ and when she did, she knew she’d married the wrong man.

“I’m sorry. You deserve better. You can take everything, but please, just let me go.”

The divorce papers are in his hand. He watches his wife leave.

.

.

The bottle stares at him. Taunts him. Each day is an exercise of control. Of will. Of strength.

Four years.

Four years of wanting and not having. Of desiring and not getting. Of trying and failing. Over and over again. For years. Until it drove him crazy. Until it got to be too much.

Until his nights were spent drunk…and then his days were too.

Because being in love with a married woman was the worst mind fuck of his life, and he just couldn’t cope. So he’d self-medicated with drugs, liquor…women.

He’d had to leave. He had to quit the show. He had to go to rehab.

He lost a year.

She was there for his spiral downward. She had tried to help. But the thing that could have saved him was the thing that damned them both.

It took him a year to get sober.

It took a year to get stronger.

A year to fix the damage. And it’s not fully healed.

The bottle is calling…should he answer it? Should he ignore?

Six weeks.

Six weeks ago he had her. Six weeks ago they made love. Six weeks of silence. Six weeks of doubt.

The phone interrupts his thoughts. A name across the screen. He picks up immediately.

“Hey.”

“Hi…are you busy this week?”

He is, but for her, he’ll clear the calendar.

“No.”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay, let’s talk.” She’s quiet. “We need to talk in person.”

Clearing the calendar it will be.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in L.A. Where are you?”

“Toronto.”

“I’ll come to you. Next flight out.”

She’s moved. An apartment now. When he knocks on the door she answers and he knows immediately it’s not a social call. He can tell by the way she bites her lip. In the way her right leg shakes when she sits.

“You’re upset about something. What is it?”

“It’s you.” Quietly she hands him a picture. He smiles at what he sees.

He looks at her. She’s unhappy.

“It was only once…” a tiny whisper.

“But once is enough.”

She’s still shaking and he goes over to her, holding her.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“Do you love me?” He’s waited four years. He won’t wait four more. He loves her too much. And he knows she loves him too.

There’s conflict in her face. Guilt. Shame.

“I broke his heart…” it’s so quiet. It trembles.

He feels bad for her husband. “He was a good guy. But he wasn’t the right guy. You were miserable. And I was too.”

"I feel like a monster."

A kiss, of love. Hands held for reassurance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Awake! My Love**

_Ohhhh no…._

It was an accident. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with him.

She’s panicking.  Lagertha throws off the blankets and tip toes away, picking up her clothes strewn along the floor as she makes her way out the door.

Quietly.

“Siggy! Siggy come get me, now!” She hisses into her phone once outside the door.

 “Where are you?”

“Meet me in the lobby in 10… _please_ hurry up!”

The door barely squeaks as she closes it and runs to the elevator, waiting anxiously for the lift to arrive.

Oh God…

What a mistake….

“What are you freaking out for?” Siggy says as they walk out into the parking deck to her car.

“I just need a pharmacy, ASAP.” Lagertha says, slumping down in the front seat. Her leg shakes as she looks out the window despondently.

The rain becomes heavier and the faint sounds of thunder rattle inside the car. It’s been raining for two days now.

“Okay. We’re here.”

 They get out and Lagertha walks quickly to the back, scooping the item off the shelf. She’s trying to be discreet, but Siggy catches a glance and the green-purple box.  Something to discuss later.

“What happened?” She demands once they’re back in the car.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’re freaked out, buying a Plan B. What did you do? Or rather, WHO did you do?”

Lagertha shakes her head…

“Lagertha Louise Lowe…” It’s a threat.

“Ragnar…” Lagertha says really quietly, so quietly Siggy really didn’t hear it—just saw her friend’s lips move as she said the name.

“Oh, shit.”

Oh shit is right. The thunder gets louder. It makes her squirm in her seat. She crosses her legs. One is still jumping. They pull back up to the hotel and go to the room they’re sharing.

 As soon as they’re in, Lagertha rips the box open, pops the bill and chases it down with a bottle of water, followed next by a shot of vodka. Siggy settles on the bed to get a good look at her friend.

Now she sees the red marks on Lagertha’s neck. And she notices her lips are puffy too…and she also notes that Lags is walking a bit funny…It’s worrying.

“What did he do?”

Lagertha catches the uncertainty in Siggy’s voice and she takes a quick look in the mirror. Seeing herself and noting how she really hasn’t told Siggy much, she can see exactly what her friend is thinking.

“No. It’s not like that—he didn’t hurt me,” she says nervously.

A relief.

“Okay, so why are you freaked out? You’re on birth control. You should be good.”

She should be good…so really…why is she freaked out?

Probably because they started right around when it started raining…and gradually Ragnar had built it up when the storm started…and by the time there was thunder she couldn’t figure out whether it was God making the earth shake or the man between her legs…and that the longer the thunder lasted…hell, Ragnar did too….and that they’d managed to have sex non-stop all night—something not normal for any person…or that it had felt that Ragnar was somehow gaining strength from the storm….and that when that final bolt of lightning hit right outside their window at 3 am in the morning she felt the both of them had been struck and he had unleashed some sort of storm within her and she could physically feel herself opening to him and there was a moment when she was actually in him, and her in her—inhabiting each other and she had seen what he did…what he was doing…and she’s not prepared for that….

“It was like fucking the God of Thunder…” Lagertha says almost as if in a trance… “and I took the Plan B because I think my birth control pills just failed.”

.

.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s been a month. A month with no symptoms and she’s almost comfortable that she’s made it. She’s at the off-color pills now, and within a day or two…there should be confirmation that she’s in the clear.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Busy.”

Ragnar looks at her, those piercing eyes probing. He knows she knows he knows she’s lying.

“Why’re you avoiding me?”

The real answer? Because she’s deathly afraid of what they did, and she doesn’t know if she can take it if it happens again, because he’s overwhelming and it’s more than frightening.

“I’m not. Just, some stuff right now.”

Two more days…Two more days.

“Ok. I won’t bother you, then.” He walks off.

.

.

Day 1, first pill….Nothing.

Day 2, second pill….Nothing.

Day 3, third pill….Nothing.

Day 4, fourth pill…Nothing.

Day 5, fifth pill…Nothing.

Day 6, sixth pill…Nothing.

Day 7, seventh pill…Nothing.

.

.

They’re on Siggy’s bed and she’s about to put a bottle of beer to her lips. Siggy snatches it away.

“Explain. What do you mean your cycle didn’t come?”

“It didn’t FUCKING COME, okay? There was NOTHING. Not a spot. Not a leak…nothing, even with the Plan B.”

Siggy’s quiet a minute before speaking again. “How overdue are you?”

“Two weeks…”

It’s a whisper underlying anguish.

“Can I have my beer back?”

“No.”

.

.

“Okay. You HAVE to do this. It’s been a month since you skipped.”

“No…let’s see if it comes first.”

“Fine. But so you know, I think you’re in denial.” Siggy storms out and slams the door.

Lagertha just puts her headphones on and zones out.

Day 1…Nothing.

Day 2…Nothing.

Day 3…Nothing.

Day 4…Nothing.

Day 5…Nothing.

Day 6…Nothing.

Day 7…Nothing—oh wait…something…

Siggy knocks on the bathroom door as Lagertha leans over the toilet heaving. She waits until the door opens.

“Pee on these. NOW.”

Lagertha pees on three sticks. They wait.

60 seconds later, the lines on the first are faint.

“What’s it say?” She can’t look.

“I can’t really tell,” Siggy says squinting…It’s like a faded line and a bit of the other? Maybe?” It gets tossed.

They wait a little longer—it’s the two-minute test.

“Check or x?” Lagertha asks. She’s wrapped her arms around her legs, sitting in a corner of the room. Siggy’s on the bed.

“Um…sorta both.” Another dud.

Three more minutes. The five minute test results…

“Yes or no?” It’s a whisper…there’s fear here…

Siggy’s eyes go wide as she reads the stick. There’s absolutely no mistaking what it says.

“Anything?” Oh yeah… definitely something….

“Do you have a Plan C?” Siggy says quietly, not looking at her.  

This is really bad.

It’s so bad that the wail Lagertha lets loose with almost breaks Siggy into pieces, and she has to comfort her friend through her tears.

Lagertha is supposed to get married in three months. Siggy’s the maid of honor.

.

.

The wedding gets called off abruptly, leaving Kalf reeling.

“Why Lagertha?” He is demanding an answer. One she can’t possibly give him. Kalf has been so good to her, and she feels like absolute shit.

“I just can’t. I’m sorry. You deserve a lot better.”

He doesn’t understand. But three months later, when he sees his ex-fiancé again, he does.

“Is it mine?” He’s hopeful. But when she shakes her head sadly, his hopes are dashed. “So you cheated on me.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” And she didn’t. Least of all with who it happened with.

Kalf scoffs. “So you tripped, slipped and fell on his dick.”

“No—that’s NOT what happened.”

“I know. Bye, Lags.”

.

.

Five months. Five months into this thing. So far, she’s been doing good disguising it.

“You cannot hide from him forever. And you can’t hide that forever, either,” Siggy says pointing to the bump on her stomach that feels as if it’s growing larger by the day. They’re getting dressed for the gala, and she’s chosen a gown with layers, soft and flowing. It disguises the bump.

 “I know.”

“I’m just saying, he’s going to be there tonight.”

“I KNOW.” She’s gritting her teeth.

“So what are you going to do if he asks?”

“I don’t intend to let him get that close.”

“You still haven’t told me how the hell it happened.”

Lagertha rolls her eyes, but she can’t ignore the sudden pulsing sensation between her legs remembering how, exactly, it happened.

They arrive fashionably late. The flashbulbs pop in their faces, and she’s conscious of how she positions herself for pictures.

 Thankfully, the only thing that’s been written is that the wedding between her and Kalf was called off. And she’s grateful that her ex-fiancé has kept her secret. He didn’t have to—he could have put her on blast, but he hasn’t.

A glass of wine is slipped into her hand and she sips from it as she begins to make the rounds and meet old friends and acquaintances. It’s the MET gala, an event she usually loves, but there’s a damper around this one. Really, she’s being the damper.

“I’m going to say hi to Rollo,” Siggy says. “Are you good by yourself for a minute?”

“I’m not a child.”

Siggy moves off leaving Lagertha alone.

Lagertha wanders a moment before slipping off to the edges of the crowd. She doesn’t see or hear his approach until hands wrap around her waist. She freezes. His hands do too…on her stomach.

“Anything you want to tell me?” Ragnar asks, slowly turning Lagertha around to face him.

 He’s dressed in a tuxedo, fitted perfectly against his body. His hair is braided down his back, still shaved on the sides. Lagertha looks at him, the wine glass frozen in her hand. He takes it away and sips from it.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have this,” he says with a soft smile.

“I can have one a day, red.”

“They updated that. Now they say you can’t.”

“No, they say its effects are indeterminate and that you should consult your doctor.”

“Did you?”

She’s quiet. He’s waiting, letting his eyes drift down her chest, to her belly. It’s cleverly disguised, but he can still see it. And he’s certainly felt it—his baby had kicked his hand.

“You ruined my life.”

It’s all she can say. Because…what else can she say? She’s been in hiding for months. She lost her fiancé. Her future. She’s trying to make it through this without having anyone know.

Ragnar shakes his head.

“Let’s go somewhere, to talk.”

They turn at the same time and come face-to-face with Kalf.

He’s glaring at them both, a look between anger and hurt.

“So you…and Ragnar.”

She feels her face flush with heat. With a shaky breath, she acknowledges it. “Yes.”

Kalf chuckles darkly. “I should have figured that.” Noting the look on her face, he talks some more.

“Everyone knows it, Lagertha. Everyone except you.” He turns to Ragnar. “Congrats, _dad_.”

Ragnar looks completely unfazed. “I would say sorry, but I’m not.” With one hand at her back Ragnar guides them around the crowd, and out a side door. He calls for his car and they get in and drive away. She reaches for her phone and texts Siggy to make sure her friend doesn’t worry.

“I knew it when it happened.” Ragnar draws up the privacy divider in the car, partitioning them from the driver. Now it’s completely quiet as they ride. She has no idea where they’re going.

“I watched you leave. You didn’t think I was awake. I never went to sleep.”

How the hell had he not gone to sleep after that?

Their car pulls up in front of a tall building and the driver lets them out. Ragnar comes to hold her hand, escorting her into the lobby and the elevator. They ride to the 21st floor and it opens into a large apartment, with glass windows overlooking the city.

He sits on a black, leather sofa. She takes a seat on the white chair across from him.

“I knew you were pregnant when I saw you that day—when you claimed to be ‘busy’.” He makes air quotes with his hands.

“How did you know? This is literally impossible.” Impossible. Impossible to be on birth control and take a Plan B and still be pregnant. Her OBGYN still hasn’t been able to figure it out. He had given her some astronomically low probability.

“And yet it has happened. And I made it happen.”

“You couldn’t have.”

Ragnar smiles. “Not with just anyone, no. Only you.” He turns serious and leans in, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Marry me.”

“No.”

He sits back and sighs, propping his feet on the glass coffee table. “Would you like to talk about what happened, that night?”

Actually, yes. Because she knows she wasn’t drunk. But she can’t remember how she got to his room. She doesn’t remember how she ended up naked, and she doesn’t remember how she ended up under him. All she remembers is what it felt like…

Thunder rumbles outside, making her flush. She crosses her legs.

 “Ragnar…did you?”

She can’t say it—

“NO. I would NEVER do that to you!” His eyes flash and he sits up suddenly at the insinuation. Lagertha shakes her head. “I don’t remember how I got to your room. I can’t remember anything that happened before...”

Before he made her pregnant.

Ragnar comes over to her and settles down beside her. “I’ll show you,” he says, leaning in and kissing her, one hand going to her belly. She closes her eyes and leans in to his affections, quickly losing herself in the touch. She feels…high. Like she’s floating, blending into him… and then…it becomes clear.

Ragnar had walked her to her room when they got back to the hotel from the day-long interviews. He had kissed her at the door—something done in the spur of the moment—he had kissed her until she was drunk and she had gone willingly to his room. They had shed their clothes on the way to the bed and he’d picked her up and placed her in it.

He breaks the contact. “Do you see, now?”

She’s shocked. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“No, we did that. We did this,” his hands caress her belly.  “Do you regret it?”

She thinks on it. Five months of trying to hide. The loss of a man she loved…a pregnancy she didn’t ask for –certainly didn’t want, at least, not with him-- but one she chose to keep because she didn’t have the heart to let it go…

“No…but I can’t believe it’s with you.”

“Why not me?”

“I don’t want to be added to your collection.”

He laughs, low.

“People say and write a lot of things. If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me,” he says. “And it doesn’t matter. You’re not part of the collection. You’re the collector. You have my baby. And you have me.”

He slips down off the couch and comes to kneel at her feet, resting his chin on her knee and looking up at her.  She looks down at him.

“What if I don’t want you?”

He smiles softly. “Then you’ll hate me. Because I’m not going anywhere.” And something in the way he says it lets her know it’s true. He’s reaching for her belly again.

“Can I touch him?”

“How do you know it’s a boy?” She hasn’t told him the sex of the baby.

“Because I know how many children I will have. I know how many sons I will have. And I also know who will bear them, Lagertha Lowe.”

“HOW do you know?”

Ragnar laughs and gets to his feet, stooping slightly to pick her up and carry her to the room.

“Because we’ve done this before.”

He sits her down and unzips the dress, letting it fall. She tries to fold her arms over herself. Her body is changing, and she’s getting thicker all over. Her thighs, her hips. Her ass…her breasts especially.

Ragnar just smiles, and moves her arms down.  “Stop trying to hide from me. I’ve always loved it when you’re pregnant.”

She looks at him strangely. “What are you talking about? I’ve never been pregnant before…”

 “I made mistakes the last time,” he says taking his time to kiss her from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet, sucking on each toe. “The seeds I sowed in my last life _will_ be harvested in this one. I’ve seen to it.”

She’s zoned out. She can’t figure out what Ragnar is talking about, but just the sound of his voice makes her hum…and his touch makes her start floating. When he’s inside her again, her body reacts as if it’s done this a thousand times. But this time, she’s not afraid of it. This time, she welcomes it, welcomes him. And this time, she controls it, tempers it…harnesses it…

The thunder gets louder outside.

 “His name is Bjorn,” Ragnar tells her as he rolls his hips with the thunder.

 _Bjorn_ …she breathes the name, moves it around. Inside her, the baby kicks again and Ragnar pauses.

“Did you feel that, too?” She asks. He smiles and nods, leaning in to kiss her.

“I promise I won’t fail you this time.”

They resume their lovemaking…and they continue through the storm outside. And when the lightning strikes outside their window she comes with a shout and she carries him with her into the night.

She dreams.

_She approaches a coffin in the shape of a boat. Slender fingers trace the intricate patterns carved into the wood._

  _"I think Odin will ride like the wind and rescue you and take you to Valhalla, where you belong, my own sweet Ragnar," she mournfully whispers to her ex-husband’s coffin. "And there, there we shall meet again and fight and drink and love one another…_

_For I have never stopped loving you. You and I were born to be together.”_

When she wakes Ragnar lying quietly but awake beside her. She turns to face him, bringing her hand to touch his cheek.

“My husband,” she says, awash in new knowledge.

“My wife.” They embrace, and he rubs her belly.

Bjorn kicks inside.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Giving credit where it is due. Inspired by the meme “Texts From Kattegat” specifically, this one: http://textsfromlastraid.tumblr.com/post/87540939295#notes
> 
> If you liked it, let me know!   
> There is a Modern Ragertha AU in the works. Coming...as soon as I figure out a title.


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